


Stainless Steel Sleuth

by Loopy



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: 1930s, Alternate History, Alternate Universe - Noir, Detective Noir, Drinking, F/M, Smoking, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:54:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24206266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loopy/pseuds/Loopy
Summary: Mai is between cases when her old friend Princess Azula comes to her with a 'request.' Prince Zuko is missing, presumed helpless, but a certain private detective might know enough about the city and the man to figure out where he is. Mai will need all her cigarettes and guns to follow the trail into the deep shadows where it leads, but will she uncover more than she can survive? (For Maiko Week 2020's first prompt.)
Relationships: Mai/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 58
Kudos: 86





	1. A BAD NIGHT FOR A BAD DEAL

**Author's Note:**

> Maiko Week 2020 is supposed to be AU-themed, but I had so many ideas for the first prompt, Noir, that I wound up writing too much and couldn't do the other prompts. Oops!
> 
> But for those who have been aching for a long Maiko Detective Noir AU, you're in for a treat!

**Stainless Steel Sleuth**

**PART 1: A BAD NIGHT FOR A BAD DEAL**

It was two shots of whiskey past midnight, and neither the casefiles I was organizing nor my sour attitude were anywhere near blurry enough yet.

The cheating-husband photos drummed on my patience like the rain on the window behind me. I sat at my desk, poured myself another shot of bourbon, and looked at it in the yellow lamplight. The flickering of the Stout's Alley streetlights through the streaked window turned the drink into fire in my palm. Hopefully it would burn just as much going down. But before I could knock it back, the door of my office got a knock of its own.

A moment later, Kei Lo opened the door and stuck his head in. "Ma'am, there's a- um- a client. Are you available?"

I was about to tell my overpaid secretary that suspicious wives could wait for normal business hours and/or for me to get over my latest hangover, but then _her_ voice rang out in sharp Chinese:

"Mai! I never would have expected you to become a private investigator, of all things. But seeing it now, it suits you. Nice office."

Princess Hinote Azula pushed past Kei Lo in a strut that strained her glistening black dress. Judging from Kei Lo's gaze, it was straining his pulmonary system, too. Hers was the rolling motion of a tiger stalking its prey, a level of confidence and power that she didn't have back when we were teenagers. Apparently, over the last two decades, Azula had acquired a bit of maturity in addition to some nice Western clothes.

I put my bottle of bourbon back in its desk drawer. This didn't seem like the time to introduce Asian royalty to Kentucky bourbon- not even Old Forester. Plus, there was no longer any need to slow down my own thoughts to keep up with the dreary day-to-day of a private dick's business. On the contrary, if Azula was here, I'd probably need to speed up my thinking. And maybe my trigger-finger.

Azula always kept things exciting, and twenty years had probably only made her better at it.

Instead, I found a pack of Camels and offered one as I stood in greeting. People didn't bow in America, not even here in the Enclave in Southern California. Still, offering a handshake seemed _wrong_. I found myself speaking English to her: "Welcome to my practice. It's after business hours, but my door is always open to you. Cigarette?"

Azula gave a shake of her head as she tucked herself into the chair on the other side of my desk. "I'm ever so glad to hear it," she said in English that was a smooth as her dark stockings, although her strong accent betrayed her lack of practice. She crossed her legs and laid her hands on her knee. "Your assistant is cute. Do you ever fool around with him?"

Kei Lo's squeak came just before the click of door, and then I was alone with my second-oldest friend.

"Not without at least six shots of whiskey in my stomach." I put the cigarette she had refused between my lips and took the time to light it before sitting down. "How's New Manchukuo?"

"Stronger than ever. The war is going well, thanks to the support and funds that our allies abroad are raising. In fact, one of my tasks here is to deliver a letter from my father to yours acknowledging the glorious contribution he made in purchasing those howitzers for us."

I could just imagine the ecstatic grins that my parents would be suppressing. "We live to serve, but you bring us a great reward. It can feel very remote here, just getting our updates before the Porky Pig cartoons." I took a drag from my cigarette.

"Well, you can take pleasure in the news that it won't be long before the Chinese surrender, Father says. Then we can turn our attention to showing the Japanese Emperor who truly is destined to rule the East. By the time Europe notices, Father will probably be halfway into Russia." Her red lips parted in a grin that was all teeth. "And you? How is life in America? You're still unmarried?"

That's two references to my love life, or lack thereof. A suspicious detective-type could start getting ideas, if she was so inclined. Romance wasn't one of my decadent thrills of choice, certain related activities notwithstanding. The only exception was that little torch -- more of a cheap lighter, really -- I'd carried back in my childhood-

But I never thought about _him._ Not these days.

I leaned my chair back against the rain-lashed window. "If I'm married, no one told me. But my brother is engaged to a blonde girl in New York. He went there for school- wanted to expand his horizons. I guess he has."

Azula gave a little sniff, setting the smoke from my cigarette swirling in front of her face. "He wouldn't remember when you lived in Manchukuo. I expect he's starved for culture here in America. Too bad for him that Europe is such a mess right now."

She said that as if her father's imperial ambitions didn't have Japan, China, and most of the surrounding civilization in war-torn turmoil. But then, I'm sure she considered it everyone else's fault for not recognizing Ozai's divine right to throw a hissy-fit whenever he didn't get his way. How the man persuaded the Japanese government to set him up in Manchukuo is beyond me, but they've certainly been paying for it.

No one had paid me, yet, so I was content to leave that mystery alone. Snooping where I'm not being paid is a good way to end up bleeding out on a floor somewhere. I exhaled another stream of smoke. "How long will you be in America? I can show you around."

The claws of Azula's gaze emerged to swipe at my attention. "I have other work that needs to be done. With Father's power increasing, he's decided it's time to secure his legacy." She switched back to Chinese to add, "Does your secretary speak this?"

I nodded. "But he doesn't speak Japanese," I suggested in that language.

Azula's Japanese was flawless, of course. "Father has given me a mission. Family is suddenly very important to him. I've been asked to bring Zuko home."

Zuko.

Home?

I pulled my Camel out of my mouth before I could choke on it. "Zuko's _here?_ In America? In-"

Azula just smiled at me.

Bits of truth tumbled down onto my head from somewhere above, hard-edged things that should have been tucked safely on a dusty shelf somewhere. "You want me to find him. That's why you're here."

She switched back to English for, "Yes, well, you _do_ know the area and its ways." Her head gave a little tilt. "I doubt the American government would appreciate my soldiers kicking in doors and shooting anyone who won't talk, as efficient as that would be."

I stuck my cigarette back in my mouth and took it to town. What was Zuko doing _here?_ His banishment terms were that he would have no home, would have to keep seeking a way to prove his worth and bravery until forgiven by his father. Europe and its war was the obvious place for that, but the world was filled with so much chaos- how would he have ended up in _California_ of all places? I was here because China had lost a chunk of itself near San Francisco a long time ago, and now there was enough nostalgia for 'the Homelands' that Mother and Father could recruit people, money, and secrets for Ozai's imperial fantasies. There was nothing worthwhile here; I had verified it myself. Wouldn't some reporters somewhere have spotted a known, handsome Prince running around and taken a picture for the society pages?

But I didn't for a moment think that Azula was wrong. It wasn't her style.

I leaned over my desk, pushing aside the snapshots of arrogant men betraying their wives, and said in Japanese, "Let's be clear about this. You're retaining my services to provide a location or Zuko himself to you. I'll need all the information you have on him. And freedom to do things my way, without having to check in every hour like a good little soldier. And there will be expenses."

"Really? Considering this nice office, I would have thought that your parents would be supplementing your income."

"And all those funds they collect from their network gets sent over to your family, anyway. If you front the cash, I don't need to involve Mother or Father- or ask for receipts." 

"Hm, receipts _are_ rather a hassle, aren't they?" Azula reached into her handbag and produced a stack of rubber-bound bills that slapped flatly on my desk. "More can be provided as required and you'll have all the freedom you can stomach. I do _trust_ you, Mai."

She lifted her hand from the money and reached out to run a finger over my lips. I was so surprised that my jaw went slack long enough for her to snatch the Camel from my mouth. She took a thin cigarette-holder out of her handbag, tucked the butt into the end, and raised it to her own crimson lips.

She leaned forward, exhaled smoke from her nose so that it splashed against my face, and smiled. "I changed my mind. I _do_ want a cigarette. And I know you don't need any extra motivation to do me a favor."

Well, I had wanted excitement.

I gave a heavy sigh that cleared the smoke away. "What's the catch?"

"Catch?"

"If all this took was knowing the right ears to whisper into, you'd just figure it out yourself, efficient or not. What extra little complication inspired you to dangle me over the fire?"

Azula took a long drag. "Have you heard of the Avatar?"

The word stood out amidst her Japanese, but how it had intruded into the conversation was beyond me. "Some kind of Tibetan advocate touring the country, right? A monk. I think I saw him in one of the newsreels. What's he got to do with any of this?"

"He's opposed to Father's glorious agenda, of course." She stubbed the cigarette out in my ashtray. "And I think he's trying to kill Zuzu. So if his followers encountered anyone looking for my dear lost brother- well, I'm sure you know how to take care of yourself."

So was I.

How could I know how wrong we both were?

* * *

An hour later, Kei Lo and I were risking the rain to take the ferry over to Cypress Island. We'd both changed into something less comfortable. He had an umbrella over my head and his raincoat around my shoulders. I was on my fifth Camel since Azula left.

In the distance across the bay, the lights of the Cypress Bridge gleamed through the downpour. That was how the limos got out onto the artificial island, the black chariots designed to look good and, occasionally, block bullets. I didn't have to worry about bullets (yet) and I didn't care about looking better than I had to, so the ferry worked. This was a business trip. That's why I was wearing something that was probably being ruined by the rain and letting my secretary get handsy.

The ferry let us off right next to Zhao's club. We didn't go to the 'front' entrance, which would have taken us to a nice restaurant and dance floor. We hurried out of the rain to the side of the building, where I knocked a specific pattern on an unassuming door. Despite the late -- or early -- hour, the door opened and a bouncer in a tux welcomed us into a little slice of decadence.

Dice were being rolled and cards were being shuffled and marbles rattled on the roulette wheels. Blue cigarette smoke hung over it all. Mahjong tiles (they didn't use cards here like they did back home) clattered in harmony with the clink of ice in glasses. The sound of a piano charmed its way through the cacophony, a better quality of music than the clientele probably appreciated, and just above it was a crooning that sounded like childhood loneliness.

I handed Kei Lo the coat, my cigarette, and a chunk of the money Azula had given me. "Go play." I kept my handbag, a nice deep one I always carried on business excursions.

"Ooh." He took a moment to run his eyes over my black gown before he gave an equally hungry eyeing to the cash. "Should I try to win?"

"Lose. Lots."

"Yes, ma'am." He placed my cigarette between his lips and went to work.

I made my way over to the bar, blending in perfectly, just another Chinese playgirl looking to lose money and enjoy some of America's jazz in a place where they really knew how to play it. So, naturally, the glaring eye in the center of a mass of scar-flesh immediately caught my attention, especially since it was tracking my progress.

I brushed at one of my hair tails and used the motion as a cover to check out the spy. A man of stature, filling out his burgundy jacket with some nice broad shoulders, was turned away from a card game to watch me out of the ruined side of his face. An acid-burn scar left the skin red and atrophied, stretching from the intense eye to a half-eaten ear, giving the man a permanent glare. He was turned so that I couldn't see the rest of his face. His damage was all I could really know about him.

I enjoyed the view.

Sure, such a scar wasn't beautiful, but if I wanted beauty, I could find it everywhere else in the casino. This was a little slice of _truth_ in a classy jacket, a face that couldn't hide anything. History, pain, survival, and menace were all written there for anyone to read and repeat. I'd rather look at a face like this than any number of pretty boys with smiles that hid designs on my connections or money or body. Give me good honest hatred over false praise any day.

That was why I had wanted to be an official police detective, before Mother and Father explained that women of my class did not take up such professions. It's why I ended up a private investigator, snooping into people's lives for enough money that Mother could pretend I was doing something respectable, even if I couldn't actually afford my penthouse.

I like truth. It's hard to find, and the right kind of chase could be exciting.

Was the Scarred Man looking to excite me?

I was willing to give him the chance, especially with a Colt .38 Auto strapped to my right leg just behind the slit in my skirt.

The Scarred Man stayed where he was as I cut my way across the casino, so I let him slip under the soiled sheets of my conscious and continued on to the long alcove enclosing the lounge.

The singing and piano grew clearer as I approached, as did my view of the scene. There was the usual crowd enjoying the libations that Zhao's bartenders were slinging, and on a little stage at the end of the counter was a baby grand with an all-too familiar woman lounging on top of it. 'Madame Pink,' as she was known, was wearing almost half a dress in her signature color and lamenting to a microphone that no amount of her love could make her man stick around.

Most of her audience was more concerned with her legs or her plunging neckline, but I met her gray eyes as I sidled up to the bar. I ordered something I didn't touch and nibbled on peanuts for another two songs. Then Madame Pink finished her set and came over to join me. A bartender slapped a scotch down in front of her as she slapped down a smile in front of me. "Mai!"

"Ty Lee."

"You look nice. You working?"

"Yeah."

"I didn't know he was married."

"Which one?"

"All of them." She knocked back her drink.

I couldn't suppress a laugh, but I did manage to mostly cover it with a snort. Ty Lee and Azula were the only people who could make me laugh, even when we were all little girls back across the Pacific, and Ty Lee didn't even have to threaten anyone's life to do it. "It's not that kind of case. And actually, I won't be working until I talk to your boss. This part is personal."

"Ooh. It's been too long since we got to spend time as friends. We're both always working. Or sleeping." Ty Lee looked across the casino floor as the bartender put another scotch in front of her. "Aw, Zhao's on his way over. We have about a minute of personal time."

I put a cigarette -- my last one -- between my lips. "Light."

Ty Lee retrieved her gleaming golden lighter from her garter and leaned over to share the flame. I pulled a certain little item out of my handbag as I arched forward to meet the fire, bringing us close enough for me to feel the heat of Ty Lee's skin. While she lit my Camel, I slipped a Beretta 418 down the front of her dress. The little handgun -- something I carried around for its concealability, not its stopping power -- disappeared from view, and Ty Lee leaned back with raised eyebrows as she took up her new glass of scotch.

I tried to enjoy the first puff. "Azula's in town."

Ty Lee spilled her drink, swore, and stepped back from the bar. "Does she- am I-"

"I'm still the only one in the country who knows your real name. And she's not looking for you." I was no traitor to my Homeland, or my friend the princess. But Ty Lee was also my friend, and she left everything behind for good reasons, even if I didn't approve of this 'Madame Pink' business. "Still, just in case, I wanted you to have a ticket out of here."

Her giggle was forced. "A bus or train ticket would probably be more helpful."

"That's not to get you a ride. It's to make sure no one follows." I took another drag and saw Ty Lee's eyes widen at something behind me. "Speaking of whom-"

I turned to find Retired-Admiral Zhao coming up behind me in a fitted suit.

"Lady Mai!" He smiled and clapped his hands together. "You should be keeping an eye on your companion. He's the single worst craps player I've ever seen." He turned to Ty Lee and lost all his cheer. "What are you doing?"

Ty Lee picked up the empty glass she'd dropped on the bar. "I'm on break."

"You want to take a break? Fine. Go wait in my office. I'll be along shortly." Zhao's stare wilted my friend like the pink flower she tried to resemble, and she slunk off with one last glance to me.

I tried to blink her a reminder of the gift I'd slipped into her bosom, but I'd never had a very large ocular vocabulary.

Once Ty Lee was gone, Zhao turned to me and smiled again. "I'd have your man thrown out to save you a little money, but he's tipping well, and I try to be kind to my employees."

I didn't waste time swinging at that one. "Ah, let him play a little longer. We can share a drink."

Zhao nodded and made a gesture at a bartender. He took Ty Lee's place next to me but didn't lean. A pair of glasses of wine were set out, and Zhao sniffed at his before he took a sip. "You have something for me?"

I tried my own wine. It was a Yellow Rooster red wine, straight out of China. So having Kei Lo spill Azula's money all over the place had worked; Zhao was in one of his better moods. "I've heard that Councilman Shinu's been talking about claiming eminent domain on your little island here. Something about knocking the club down to build a prison."

Zhao's face collapsed into its natural scowling state. "I've heard that, too."

"Not that you really have to worry about it. Not while you have _this._ " I reached down the front of my dress -- a little trick that always makes these little exchanges go better -- and pulled out an envelope. I'd taken the glossy picture within a while ago while doing some of my regular business, and had set it aside for a day when it would be worth my weight in gold. It was a pretty good shot, if I can judge my own work, clearly showing Shinu and the goods he was receiving.

Certainly, Zhao seemed to appreciate the angle. His expression shone like polished steel when he slid the picture out of the envelope. "The newspapers will love it. And is there some accommodation I can make for you?"

"As exciting as the games here are-" I sipped my wine, tilted my head so that I was looking up at him through my fringe, and drawled, "I'd like to know where I can find a challenging Pai Sho game in the city."

It took him a moment to hear the question lurking behind my request. When he did, his shoulders hunched and he put down his wine. "Even assuming I'd know how to find _him,_ it'd be a big risk for both of us. He doesn't like to talk to anyone in good standing with the Homeland, and he has 'friends' who help him maintain his distance. If he found out I helped you find him-"

"No one would find out anything." I leaned my back against the bar and looked out over the casino. People were laughing and smoking and gambling and keeping the world at bay. "I just want to talk to him about a mutual interest. Even if _he_ takes offense at me, your name will never come up. You know I'm good at keeping my mouth shut. After all, I've been sitting on Shinu's photograph there for a year. Most people think I don't have anything worth saying, anyway."

I waited while Zhao finished his wine. He set the empty glass on the bar, straightened his cuffs, and glanced at me out of the side of his vision. "I'm going to my office. If your date hasn't run out of money in half an hour, a waiter will find you and bring you a note. Keep it folded until tomorrow."

"Ganbei." I finished off my own glass and went to find Kei Lo. I had to tell him to start losing more slowly.

* * *

A half an hour later as promised, a folded list of addresses for Pai Sho parlors in my handbag, I was letting Kei Lo put an arm around my waist to guide me out of the casino. The rain had eased up a bit, merely scattering droplets the way a careless smoker leaves ash on the floor. A parking lot full of black cars twinkled drunkenly at me in lamplights. The sky might have even been getting light, behind the clouds and all the damp gloom, but who could tell?

We were the only ones out here. Zhao didn't pay anyone to park cars, and the people inside the club weren't quite ready to squint their way to a breakfast before stumbling into their beds. The sounds of Madame Pink's singing, not as strong as it was before her break in Zhao's office, echoed a bit like a ghost from the past. Distant thunder rolled across the bay to add a jazzy flourish.

So we were the only ones who heard the gunshot, a sharp crack from what had to be a cute little piece.

A shake of my arms and some deft finger-work brought a pair of my own cute little pieces into my hands. Kei Lo's shakes were much less elegant and didn't involve any weapons, but I didn't employ him for his bravery. It was impossible to tell the source of the sound out here in the open night, so I scanned around with guns raised.

There was motion in the corner of my eye. I turned and aimed and found a man with nice shoulders under a burgundy jacket running around the corner of the building, towards the back. The scar on his face was visible for a moment before the darkness swallowed him.

The shooter? Or just someone who was behaving completely sensibly upon hearing gunfire?

Either way, I ran after him. Good thing I'd worn my dancing shoes, but my comfort and balance were the only things they accomplished. By the time I turned the corner, the Scarred Man was gone, either escaped or hiding in some invisible shadow. I kicked over a few empty boxes and poked around the rear loading pier, but found nothing.

At least Kei Lo had made himself useful during my aborted chase. By the time I returned, he'd turned up a body with a bullet hole in it.

It was a man- tall, Chinese features, cheap tux. But the eye-catching thing was the red bird-like facial tattoo that marked him as a member of the Yu Yan gang. Not many of that group ended up like this; it was usually them gunning down other people.

"He as dead as he looks?" I kept my pistols out, one aimed at the body and one covering the rest of the parking lot.

"Yep." Kei Lo leaned back from the body with something in his hands. "Richer, though." He held up a thick, blood-stained stack of bills bound together with a rubber band.

It could be nothing related to us. Just another disagreement outside Zhao's place, the kind of thing that turned sweat and booze and debt into sticky blood. Hey, Zhao might already be regretting his deal with me, and he'd offered a Yuyan gambler a quick way out of some debt.

Or maybe this poor sucker had just come out after dancing the night away with a nice girl, only to wind up taking a bullet for me. It could be that the Avatar's people already knew I was after Zuko.

So was the Scarred Man working for the Avatar? Or was there even more going on here than I could point my guns at right now?

I nudged Kei Lo with a foot. "Get us a car."

"Which one?" He pocketed the cash and pulled out his 'special tools.'

"Do I look like I give two shakes?"

My secretary picked a nearby black Pontiac and started things off by smashing the window. I covered him as he worked his way inside and hotwired the vehicle. It seemed to take forever as I stood there, using the other cars as covers and trying to be ready to get the first shot if anyone decided to start something.

It was moments like these that made me feel alive. My heart and breathing were steady, but my mind was dancing, flitting from partner to partner, switching things up between the mystery of the dead Yuyan and all the shadows that could be hiding a shooter. Angles and bullets and motivations and not as much self-preservation as I should have had all swirled through my thoughts. Scowling acid-scarred visages stared back at me in every shadow and puddle before fading away.

The car growled to life and the passenger-side door was kicked open for me. I had a smile on my face I couldn't get rid of as I got my rear on the leather seat and Kei Lo shifted us into gear. We burned rubber across the bridge. If anyone shot at us, we didn't hear.

I managed not to laugh.

My heart only started hammering after we'd gotten safely away. Kei Lo took the car into the warehouse district, where we could abandon it and get away unobserved. As long as we had no one watching us, I took the time to express my appreciation to my secretary for the getaway. Then I sent him home to sleep it off and stumbled my way to a hotel where no one would think to look for me, something with a front carpet that was slightly dirty but not too gross.

In some ways I'm a classy girl and in some ways I'm not. Trying to be consistent about it sounds exhausting.

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	2. OFF ON THE WRONG FOOT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mai follows the trail that Zhao started her on, but she soon finds that something more interesting may lay off the marked path.

**PART 2: OFF ON THE WRONG FOOT**

The next morning came at about four in the afternoon.

The rain had returned with both a vengeance and a disgusting humidity, so when I turned in the key to my room at the front desk I also bought the clerk's umbrella on Azula's expense budget. It was a black umbrella, so it wound up being the only thing in my possession that didn't make me look ridiculous. I was still wearing the fancy slit dress from my trip to Zhao's club last night-morning, and only had Kei Lo's raincoat to hide in. I'd called my secretary before checking out and had told him to both give up on getting the coat back and hold down the office so I could focus on the search for Zuko. Kei Lo was no good at the actual detective work, and today I planned on acting like a detective. No more photographing cheating husbands for me- at least until either Azula's patience or money ran out.

The crowds were already out and my attire got more than a few looks, but I employed a carefully-honed strategy of not caring and took the 'dinkies' streetcars back to my apartment for a change of clothes and a sample of whatever Mother's maids had left in my pantry. I didn't stay long and used the fire escapes to go in and out, which was a very interesting process with an umbrella and a slit skirt. But it was better than finding a Yuyan gangster or a looming Scarred Man waiting on my doorstep, so I tried to enjoy being grumpy about the whole thing.

By six, armed with my usual compliment of weaponry and Zhao's list of Pai Sho parlors, I was ready.

The formula was simple. I'd hop off a dinky at least a block away and around a corner from each parlor, hurrying through the rain to the front door. I would step into each place, shake the water off my coat and umbrella, and look around as if just discovering the kind of joint I'd taken shelter in. Staring a little at the scattered Pai Sho games and the old men pondering them helped sell my confusion, and I didn't even have to pretend much for that part, because what was it about old men from the Homeland that this was all they could think to do on a rainy day? Didn't any of them own a radio or go to shows?

The next part of the plan took me over to the snack counter to buy a pack of Camels, like anyone else on their way home from work in the rain who just realized they were out of smokes. The clerks all took pity on me, selling me the cigarettes without asking if I was interested in partaking of a game or buying any custom tiles, and I rewarded them by not asking what bad luck landed them a job in a place like this, pretending to be nice to funny-smelling old people who didn't own radios.

Pai Sho had never quite caught on here in America, chess and checkers and billiards winning out for the poor saps who didn't play cards, so it was just the elders with accents who still bothered with the painted tiles. But those old saps had money, and they enjoyed their tea and nibbles while they played, so the parlors were managing to hang on. Half of them were probably selling drugs under the table, anyway. I wasn't offered any, but that wasn't proof of anything. I don't look like I know how to have fun, and that's a burden I'm just going to have to live with all my life. It was better than being Azula, the poor girl being born without whatever organ keeps us from constantly creeping other human beings out.

And my boredom has never been so bad that I'd bothered with drugs, and they certainly weren't why I was out in the rain hitting all the Pai Sho parlors. With each visit, after the clerks handed me my change and my Camels, I'd say, "Hey, I think an old boyfriend works in a parlor like this. Do you know Zuko?"

He had never been one for Pai Sho, but he had an elder in his life who I remembered as loving the game. And that elder left with Zuko when the banishment was laid down. If Zuko was in the area, then that elder could be, too. It was a bit of a long shot, but Zhao had a hand in a lot of the trade with the Homelands, so he'd know the really nice Pai Sho parlors from the cheap pretenders. Which meant that Zhao knew how to find Iroh, and thanks to our little swap, now so did I.

At least, we knew which Pai Sho parlors were worth checking out. What Zhao probably didn't know was that asking directly for Iroh wouldn't get me anywhere, not unless Iroh was expecting me. And if he was, then he knew about Azula, and that would be worse than unhelpful.

So, instead, I was making myself bait all along the trolley lines, one pack of cigarettes at a time.

Some of the clerks just looked confused and said they didn't know any Zuko. The rest just looked blank and said the same thing. Hopefully, one of those blank faces was like mine and hiding something worthwhile.

Private investigation is often just a matter of effort and luck.

I worked my way across the city by way of the dinkies, hitting parlor after parlor. It got dark, and late, but no less humid. The typical foot and car traffic started to thin out. It wouldn't be long before the elders would decide it was time to shuffle on home and the parlors would lock the doors. I waited for the next trolley at a lonely corner, debating whether I should call it quits for the day, when I gazed across the street and saw the Scarred Man staring at me.

He was standing in the shadows of a thin alleyway, his position beneath an awning his only concession to the downpour. Most of him was obscured, and it was really only the shape of his shoulders and the red of the scar on his face that let me recognize him. There was no doubt, though, that his gaze was aimed right at me.

I thought back to the dead Yuyan, put one of my hands into the pocket of my coat, and shook a holdout pistol into my grip.

The Scarred Man continued to watch me. I couldn't tell if he'd noticed my notice of him.

I turned and ambled off down the street with the idea of sneaking around to the other side of the alley and getting the drop on him. He didn't seem like the talkative type, but I was betting that the barrel of a gun pressed to the back of his head would get me some answers. Unfortunately, my brilliant plan didn't foresee the Mister Dapper who bumped into me as we passed on the sidewalk.

He was tall, dark-skinned, and had a little smile at the center of his trim beard. He wore a suit beneath his raincoat with a white lotus in the lapel, and both his tie and the ribbon around his hat were a rich gold. He didn't lean on his cane at all. Perhaps he was a friend of the Scarred Man.

"Pardon me, ma'am." He tipped his hat, spilling some rainwater, and looked at the parlor I'd been walking away from. "It's nice to see young people taking an interest in Pai Sho."

I shrugged and, within my pocket, put a finger on the trigger of the gun I was hiding. "I'm not much of a player. Just ducked in to get some smokes and out of the rain for a moment."

"And ask a question." He tapped his cane on the ground. "The same question at quite a few different parlors, today, I hear."

Either I'd successfully made myself into bait, or the Scarred Man and Mister Dapper were part of a spy network with impressive reach. "I'm looking for a friend. I didn't mean to make trouble for anyone." I started to slowly slide the gun out of my pocket.

He nodded. "It's no trouble at all." Then his cane became a blur.

Before I could either move my umbrella to block or aim my gun, the cane struck my head and flipped an electric switch that must have been hidden in my skull because all the lights went out.

* * *

I woke up with the sun in my eyes and handcuffs on my wrists. I was bound to the gate-like metal headboard of a bed, and a familiar-looking old fat man sat across the bedroom from me in a rocking chair. He was drinking tea.

I couldn't decide if this was better or worse than waking up tied to a chair to find a massive thug with a lead pipe in his hands. I suppose I was blazing new trails in the world of private detection.

It was a strange bedroom. I hate not remembering how I got back to my own bed, never mind someone else's. What made it even worse, for a variety of reasons, was that I didn't have any of my guns on me, even the most hidden.

The old man sipped his tea. "I have not touched you. My employer, 'Aunt' Wu, disarmed and secured you for me." His accent was thick, but I didn't trust the oblivious tone of his voice. "She's also doing us the favor of allowing the use of this room- and a pair of the staff's handcuffs. She's not even charging us the regular rates! So kind of her."

Again, I was ambivalent about being disturbed, so I settled for curiosity. I looked around at the room again. It was roomy and decorated with plenty of girlish things, but there was a gaudiness to it all, and no signs of actual human habitation like an ashtray or pair of slippers or something. My expert detective instincts were starting to piece together what this bed was normally used for and what profession this Aunt Wu was in. It left me feeling like I needed a shower as soon as possible.

But I wasn't going to get one if I didn't talk my way out of this. "Your employer?"

"I provide the security for the staff here. I may not look like what most call a 'bouncer,' but I am quite capable of handling an unruly customer, I can assure you."

If this was who I suspected, I didn't doubt it. "Do they call you 'General?' Or just Iroh?"

He chuckled. "Mostly, they call me 'Uncle Mushi.' I have come to enjoy the way that name keeps me humble. As long as we are on the subject, what shall I call you, my dear?"

He hadn't confirmed anything for me, but that was just more evidence that was I right. "Exactly what it says on the license in my purse."

"You think I would go through a lady's things like that?"

"No, I think you had 'Auntie' do it. Or one of the girls who work here."

He tipped the tea cup towards me in a kind of salute. "The problem is that I don't know a Mei Hino. And you certainly don't look Japanese."

"Well, that's the name given to me when my parents were elevated to be nobles of Manchukuo. However, I was born as Wuchang Mai."

Iroh settled his tea down on the stand beside his chair and went still. His eyes were locked onto me, and I was reminded that this silly man in the rocking chair had once been the most feared military commander in the east. He had been a student of the first World War and brought those lessons to his service for his father and the Japanese Emperor. Even that wouldn't have been intimidating, not for someone like me, but then there was what had come _after_ Iroh's military career. The strange shift in priorities. The travels to China, India, and who knew what other places. And his devotion to the guy I was trying to find for Azula.

He said, "You were the one who didn't talk. The one who always stood behind the smiling girl in pink."

"I grew up and learned how to shoot a handgun. That kind of thing does wonders for curing shyness. And the girl in pink doesn't smile much anymore, so I had to make up for it in some way."

"I'm sure." Iroh stood up and went over to stand at the window. Sunlight shined down on him, so I guess the rain was over. And I guess I'd spent the night here. "And now you've come to America looking for Zuko."

"Wrong. I've been in America for half my life. I'm looking for Zuko because Azula just showed up yesterday -- actually, two days ago, thanks to your goon with the cane -- and threw a lot of money at me."

"I appreciate your honesty." Iroh still didn't look at me, but I had no doubt I was the center of his attention. "And please don't call Mister Piandao a goon. He was very careful to not do you permanent injury, no small trick with blunt objects and skulls."

I decided to not get sidetracked by the possibility of having brain damage. "Can you get word to Zuko? That Azula is looking for him? She says that Emperor Ozai wants Zuko back, but- well-"

"You doubt the Manchurian Emperor's benevolence for his son?" Iroh finally turned to look at me again. "How much do you know about his banishment?"

I shrugged as best I could with my hands cuffed to the headboard. "Zuko had expressed disapproval of some aspect of our glorious Emperor's strategy for the war. Ozai decided that Zuko needed to see more of the world before he could tell his elders what to do, and sent him on a vague mission to prove himself as a Prince. And you went with him. And that is the last anyone heard from either of you for twenty years."

Iroh went back over for his tea. He picked up the cup again, but only looked down into it rather than using it for its intended purpose. "I see. And what do you intend to do when you find my nephew?"

"Well. I would start by saying hello. And then I was planning on telling him what Azula said. And if he wants to be put in contact, then I get to call it a closed case." I waited for Iroh to look back up at me before saying the next part. "And if he doesn't, then I wish him a nice life, tell Azula that my leads didn't pan out, and find a new case to amuse me."

This wasn't a sudden decision on my part. Azula's my friend, but just as I had no desire to put her on Ty Lee's trail, I knew that she wouldn't be an improvement for Zuko's life, whatever it was like now. Even Azula's goodwill was covered in sharp edges, and not all of us enjoy playing with things that could cut us. Even I don't enjoy it all the time- I just learned how to pretend to myself that I do.

But I was good at pretending, and I was good at Azula. I'd take her money, play her games, and look very busy hunting for Zuko. If he didn't turn up- well, that was hardly my fault. If Azula could do better, she was welcome to try. I knew how to make it look like I was an obedient little servant while doing my own thing.

I'm good like that.

And if Zuko _did_ want to try his luck with his sister, then it was out of my hands.

Iroh deflated me with a laugh. "Then I'm sorry to say that you are about six months too late. Azula found me and Zuko where we were living and already offered him what you're describing. Zuko and I- had words, and he left. I found a new place for myself as well, since my brother's intentions for me were not as generous. I am sorry to say that I have not seen my nephew since."

My jaw dropped. It took a few moments to get my face back under control, and then when I had a properly blank look I dissected what Iroh was trying to pass off here. Azula had _already found_ Zuko? Six months ago? Then why search for him now, throwing money around and calling on old friends? Was this just a smokescreen, a fake hunt for a prize that had already been won? Was I the one meant to be fooled, or was I part of putting on a show for someone else? Some scheme against the Avatar?

Or had Azula really lost Zuko again?

I realized that Iroh was staring at me. I let the blankness slide just enough to give him a glare.

He stroked his beard. "That is not even the whole of the facts you are missing. I can tell you more, but I am afraid that it might put you in danger. It is one thing to know the full story of your mission, but there are secrets that the Royal Family would do anything to preserve. Anything."

I didn't doubt him for a minute, but if he thought he was giving me a choice, he didn't really know me from Ty Lee. This was turning into one of those tricky investigations where the truth wasn't exactly what I was expecting when I started, and those were annoying.

But knowing things that could put me in danger? Investigating truths forbidden to all but the most dangerous people alive?

I licked my lips and stared Iroh down. "For an old guy, you sure know how to show a young lady a good time. Tell me _everything._ And maybe I won't call the police about you having me knocked out and handcuffed, you freak."

Iroh laughed again.

He put his teacup down on the stand and produced a pen out of his pocket. He wrote something on the napkin there as he said, "It is not my story to tell, but with an attitude like that, you should find your way to the truth in short order. I think you will be interested in this address."

Then he turned and moved towards the door.

"Wait!" I gave my handcuffs a shake, but they held tight. "What's at this address? And where are you going?"

"I think I might have worn out this city's welcome. Perhaps it is time for me to find a new path." He bowed to me. "Meng will be along to set you free and return your weapons. If we see each other again, I hope it will not be as enemies."

And then he walked out.

Over at the window, a cloud drifted to dim the sun.

I'd forgotten to ask about the Scarred Man.

* * *

It was almost 700 miles to Bullionville, Nevada. And for some reason, that was where Iroh wanted me to go.

There weren't a lot of preparations for me to make before I left. As Iroh had promised, a girl named Meng came to unlock the cuffs and give me my things back, including the guns. All the money was still in my purse and I think I had spent a night in her workplace, so I tipped her. Besides, losing some of Azula's money left room for the napkin with the Bullionville address on it.

Aunt Wu let me use the phone, since I was Uncle Mushi's friend, and Kei Lo was relieved to hear from me. Apparently he'd expected me to call last night, and my getting knocked out by Piandao had upset whatever his plans were for the evening. I skipped the reassurances and told him to send me a cab and a change of clothes. I asked Meng for a nice hotel in the area and got a recommendation. I was in no mood for another climb up my fire escape, and if I was still in danger, there was a chance I had already used up the safety of the unconventional approach.

When I stepped outside, I was greeted by a cool breeze. With the sun hiding again, the remnants of the rain had things feeling damp and uncomfortable.

But the cab, the clothes, and the hotel accommodations combined to have me feeling human again. The clerk at the front desk was even able to give me a map that let me figure out where this Bullionville was supposed to be. I took advantage of what passed for a good mood for me to call Azula. I told her I had a lead, needed to take a drive, and added, "Send me some more cash. I'll give you the hotel address."

She was silent on the other end of the line for a moment. "I'm not requiring hourly reports, as you requested, but if you're leaving the city, it only makes sense to tell me where you'll be. We do have enemies, after all. If you go missing, I'll need to know where to look."

It was a fair point. And if Azula was just as fair, I would have told her. But according to Iroh, she'd already lied to me once that I knew of, and I didn't actually need to trust Iroh much to believe that Azula was a liar. Sometime she did it just to keep in practice. Actually, those cases were usually the most benign of her deceptions.

So I figured I was owed a little distance and said, "Reno. It's in Nevada, another American state- kind of like a province. Probably a two-day drive, unless I go too fast, and I _always_ go too fast. I got a tip that someone claiming to be Manchurian royalty was throwing some money around in a casino there. Gambling is actually legal in that town, so I won't even need to break the law to investigate."

I had another wait for the return of Azula's voice. "Well, I hope this lead turns something up. Let me know if you need any further resources. I'll have the money delivered to the hotel tonight."

"No rush," I answered, lighting up one of the roughly ten thousand cigarettes I'd wound up buying from the Pai Sho parlors. Aunt Wu had given every one of them back. "I'm leaving at dawn."

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	3. LOOKING FOR TROUBLE AND FINDING IT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mai discovers what Iroh wants her to see in Bullionville, but that only leaves her with more questions.

**PART 3: LOOKING FOR TROUBLE AND FINDING IT**

I didn't realize until after I'd left that I should have tried to talk Azula into paying me by my mileage. Life is full of regrets.

The trip to Bullionville turned out to be one of the most boring things I'd ever experienced, even though I broke the speed limits the whole way there. The sky remained a slate gray, and the scenery was exactly like all the photographs I'd seen of the effects of the Depression in America. Nevada was doing as well as my city, it seemed.

But things started to pick up when I rolled up to town and found it secured by fences and tollbooths. I stopped next to the window, took off my sunglasses, and looked up at the uniformed lady in the booth. "How much?"

"A nickel for visitors." As I fished the coin out of my pocket, she added, "Be aware that Bullionville is a privately-owned town. Visitors would do well to learn about the local laws and adhere to them with all due diligence." She eyed my car and grimaced, and I had to suppress a smirk.

They probably didn't see many black Jaguar ss100 roadsters out here. There weren't even many back in the city, but one nice thing about being a wealthy heiress was that I got to buy ridiculous things when I actually wanted to and was willing to ask my parents for the money. Fortunately, Mother didn't know much about cars, and it wasn't hard to convince her that all the classiest heiresses were driving English sports cars.

I flipped the lady her nickel and gunned the engine as I entered Bullionville. I took my time finding the address that Iroh had given me, to better get the lay of the land. The Booth Lady might not have good taste in cars, but a free warning wasn't something to waste.

The edges of the town were interesting, in a nasty kind of way. There were plenty of houses, even if they all looked a bit too alike, which was a lot better than the camps or tents you saw in areas really hit by the bad economy. But there was a dusty, faded, leaning aspect to everything. It was what you saw when the owners couldn't quite keep up with the pace of natural deterioration.

Most of the people I saw were moving about on some kind of business, but they had that same weathered, hollow look as the local architecture. There were others with a mean, hungry, almost desperate look, but that wasn't unusual; we had those types in the city, too.

But as I got deeper into town, it got very nice. Nice roads, nice houses, nice parks, and nice shops. It looked like it had all come out of a catalogue, piece by piece, with a few that were exclusive to the Christmas Club. The paint on the buildings was fresh, here, and green was a popular color. The houses all had bright white picket fences, which I'd hadn't thought were actually real. The men wore tweed and the women had jewelry on.

The only part that might have given Norman Rockwell pause (but then, I didn't actually know the man) was the uniformed watchmen who had everything under quiet surveillance and watched me as I coasted down the streets.

Interestingly, most of the people in Bullionville were of Chinese descent, but all I overheard were American drawls. I hadn't known there were these kind of enclaves outside the city and its surrounding California countryside, never mind one old enough to be at least second-generation. But I suppose we were still fairly close to California, and Ozai's ancestors had been just as disruptive as he was, refugees and all. Their antics hadn't managed to carve out their own new nation, but I guess that kind of thing was a multi-generation project.

The core of the town was made up of gated communities. They didn't open the gates when they saw me coming, and I didn't ask to come in. In my profession, entry to those kinds of neighborhoods was achieved by hopping a wall at night or meeting the right kind of guy at the theater and wearing something scandalous. I'd deal with that only if I had to. This was a privately-owned town, after all, and I didn't want to make my friend, the nice Booth Lady, mad.

The address I'd gotten from Iroh proved to be on the outskirts of the town, back in the grungier section. But this particular neighborhood was better than the rest, with people who tried to make their decrepit shacks look a little more respectable. Welcome mats were out, the windows were clean, and some of the doors had chintzy decorations on them. Kids played in puddles but didn't smoke, and no one flashed a knife, not even for a laugh.

The address I was looking for turned out to be a little house squeezed between its neighbors. It had cracked paint on the outside, a pickup truck full of boxes parked in front, and a 'For Rent' sign hanging on the door. I parked across the street, noted the uniformed watchman down the street, and walked over to knock on the door.

A woman answered. Her dress was green, her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she looked confused by my very existence. "Can I help you?"

I nodded at the 'For Rent' sign. "I was hoping to have a look. If that's all right, ma'am?"

"Oh." She blinked and stood up a little straighter. "Here, let me show you around the place. I'm almost done packing up the last of my things." She opened the door wider and stepped back to let me in. "I'm Mrs Lee. You can call me Jin. I've lived here for the last few years with my husband Zuko."

And then, her brow furrowing, she added, "But he's not around anymore."

* * *

I barely saw the stupid house.

Most of my attention was on _Zuko's wife,_ who prattled on about the features of her former home and whether it was worth the rent in her opinion. I was vaguely aware that at some point she asked me if I would be living alone, and I managed something about having to get away from my parents and the city life.

Jin showed me the kitchen where she and Zuko had dinner every night, often having his uncle over.

The den where they'd listen to the radio, with Zuko being partial to The Shadow and Jin loving Jack Benny.

The bedroom.

Her voice floated along, completely unconcerned about whether I heard it or not. Which was fine. I didn't care about the place. I wanted to ask where Zuko was. How she met him. Why Zuko would marry some dip in a little town and give up on returning home with honor.

I wasn't jealous. I'd hardly been a good little girl, myself, over the decades, so I wasn't concerned with how Zuko amused himself during his banishment. What disturbed me was the _settled_ quality of the life being painted for me. The domestic simplicity. When Zuko left, Azula had conveyed with a sneer how adamant her brother had been about returning home one day. I'd cried some nights, before my family had moved to America, worried that he'd get himself killed in some dangerous stunt. Had he given up? Changed?

But if Iroh was right, Azula had come a'calling and found her Zuzu receptive. So Zuko had left his wife to run away with his sister? How had Azula even found him?

Jin led me back to the front of the house, and then just stood in the middle of the nearly empty room, as if unsure what to do next.

Well, I still had a job to do. Even if it was just for my own satisfaction. "This seems like a really nice place." I pulled my pack of cigarettes out. I offered one to Jin, but she shook her head with glassy eyes, so I lit up alone. "I was also wondering about the town. I've never heard of a whole privately-owned settlement."

"Oh, it's- it's lovely." Jin actually cringed as she said it, the poor thing. It was like watching Ty Lee pretend to enjoy being bullied by her sisters. "There's no crime, everyone has a job -- my Zuko worked at a smelter's -- and it's very peaceful." There was no enthusiasm in her voice. "As long as you obey the rules, you won't have a problem."

"That's why those watchmen are out there for? Obedience?" I waved my cigarette vaguely in the direction of the outside, spreading smoke all around the little room.

Jin though, looked out the window. Perhaps she was trying to avoid my eyes. "Long Feng administers the watchmen. He- he's good at- um, there's no crime?"

A good person might have shied away from what I did next. I just felt mildly rotten as I widened my eyes, put my hand to where I was supposed to have a heart, and hissed, "He didn't have anything to do with your husband, did he?"

Jin blanched, and then turned away just as the tears welled up in her eyes. "No, he- Zuko- he _left._ He found out- but he's still okay! Still safe! I just got mail from him!" She moved over to a box that was sitting over by the window, and pulled out a thick book.

A journal.

Jin flipped through as she sniffled. "I don't know what all this is about, but he sent it to this house. Addressed to himself. He's coming back for it. I know it. I know he- _Oh my heavens, your car!_ "

The urgency in her voice brought me to the window beside her, and I saw a whole bunch of uniformed thugs standing around my Jaguar. One was sticking a ticket on the windshield, while the rest were standing in formation like they were guarding an emperor.

I handed Jin my cigarette -- the kid looked like she needed it -- and stomped outside. But the instincts I'd honed since childhood kicked in, and I realized that this was no time to handle things the city-way. Not if I wanted to find out what had happened with Zuko. Besides, if I shot a watchman, then the others might shoot back, and that kind of thing takes forever.

So I strangled my indignation by the time I approached the guy who had dared to put a ticket on my windshield. "Is there a problem, sir?"

"This car is illegally parked." The watchman's eyes were blocked from my view by the brim of his hat.

"I didn't see a sign."

"We do not post signs. They interfere with natural beauty of our neighborhoods. Responsible people familiarize themselves with the rules before parking cars on the street."

That brought me up short, but only for a moment. Once I cut past the absurdity, it was easy to understand. Secret rules let them identify and attack outsiders easily.

Zuko had gone along with this life, huh? At least, for a few years. And then Azula had waltzed into it.

I gave a little bow of my head like I was back across the Pacific. "My apologies for the oversight. I deeply regret my mistake. How would I go about paying the fine?"

"There is no fine." The watchman snapped the ticket from my window, folded it up, and put it in his breast pocket. "That was merely a notice. We are placing you under arrest for unlawful abandonment of a vehicle." He removed a pair of handcuffs from his belt.

The first time I'd been arrested, I'd suffered a (silent) little panic. I'd since learned that a private investigator who didn't get arrested wasn't really doing her job. This might mean I was making real progress.

I held out my hands and said, "Okay, but you should know that this isn't my first time in handcuffs. Not even this week. But you're a little cuter than the girl who took off my last pair, so yay for you."

* * *

The first thing they did after cuffing me was conduct a search. Finding all my guns didn't put them in a better mood, and I have to admit I was a little put out by the experience, too.

Then Jin came out, my cigarette stuck behind her ear like a pencil and her journal under and arm, to plead my case. I could kind of see why Zuko would take up with her, of all the little housewives out there. She apparently had spunk and a sense of justice.

She didn't know me from Betty, but here she was trying to explain that I was a nice lady who was thinking of renting the house, not a criminal to be arrested, even after she'd done a double-take at the pile of handguns that had been taken from me. And she was clearly uneasy with the authorities. She was out here anyway.

But the lead watchmen said, "Enough. I will call this in to the station. Everyone remain here." He moved towards a callbox at the end of the street, walking with his hands clasped behind his back.

"What a goose-stepper," I muttered just loud enough for Jin to hear.

She eyed me. "Are you really here about renting the house?"

I quirked an eyebrow at her. "You don't believe me?"

"Well, it's just- you have really nice clothes and- and this car." She bit her lip. "And your accent- it's faint, but so was Zuko's. And yours sounds exactly the same as his."

There were a number of ways I could have played it. I could have kept lying, perhaps explaining that most Americans don't know China from Japan from Korea, never mind the regional accents. I could have come clean, pleading in earnest that I was trying to find Zuko to get him out of whatever trouble he'd found for himself and convincing Jin with the power of my passion. I could have just told her to shut up and leave the thinking to people who knew a tram from a train.

But all I did was stare at Jin until a car with a siren on top pulled up next to us.

The driver, another watchman, got out with a file folder in his hands. He motioned Jin over, and she obeyed after holding my gaze for another moment. I couldn't hear the resulting conversation, but the watchman handed her the folder and she went pale.

I considered getting a little closer, but the other guards were keeping an eye on me.

Jin barely opened the folder and only took a peek at the contents, as if she already knew what would be in there. She drooped and handed it back. And then he reached for the journal still under her arm.

Jin cried out and moved to try to pull it away, and I was ready to jump in case anyone drew a gun on her. But the watchman whispered something and she slumped like someone had just unplugged her electricity.

She wailed, loud enough for me to hear, "It's all I have left of him!"

The watchman wasn't moved. He whispered again, and Jin handed the book over, never raising her gaze from her feet. She didn't move until she got a gesture of dismissal. Then she got into the pickup truck filled with the remnants of her life with Zuko, stuck my Camel in her mouth, and gave me one last look with wet eyes.

She drove away.

When the copcar arrived, I was shoved into the passenger side and my cuffs latched to the dash. The watchman threw the paperwork on the seat beside me, including the folder that had sent Jin running, and got in to drive.

The pictures within the folder began sliding out as we rolled down the street. The watchmen kept his eyes on the road and gauges like a good little toy soldier, so I nudged the stack with my hip to encourage more of a reveal. Enough, just enough, of the photos became visible.

They were of Jin, of course. The face was there, a little younger and leaner. The tired smile was there, the same one that even in the picture didn't quite reach her big bright, glassy eyes. Her hair was in pigtails, giving her a little extra girlish perkiness, along with the way she was lounging across what had to be an authentic imported Chinese chair. It was a very professional photo.

The only thing missing was clothes.

So this was how 'Long Feng' ran things around here, huh?

No wonder Zuko left.

When we arrived at the station, the driver picked up the stack of paperwork, tapped the photos back into the folder with barely a glance, and got on with processing my arrest.

* * *

The jail wasn't the worst I'd been in. No jail is a fun place to spend a night, though.

But when morning came, one of the stoic watchmen wheeled in a tray with a doily under the breakfast plate and a silver pot of tea steaming away. I even was given privacy to eat and get myself together.

When the watchman came back, he _bowed._ "If it pleases you, Chief Long Feng is available for a meeting."

Since they were classing it up, I acted like the nobility I reluctantly was and assented with a nod and a straight back. I was led to an office with an entire row of neat filing cabinets against the far wall, perhaps full of pictures like Jin's, and a mahogany desk in the center with a grim, brassy man behind it.

He was looking through my wallet. "Mei Hino. Registered private investigator in good standing. I am Chief Long Feng. Please, take a seat. I wish to know exactly what you are investigating in my town."

I lifted a single eyebrow as I sat down. "I can't be interested in renting a house?"

"Not one as simple as Mrs Lee's. Your vehicle alone is worth more than that building." He put my wallet down on his desk and met my eyes. "Since I am responsible for the peace and safety of this settlement, I am obliged to investigate your presence here. If you are forthcoming, I think we can clear up the matter of the illegally parked car and get you on your way."

It was just like when a politician's son was being cut loose in the wake of a wild night, right after all the phone calls were made. Theoretically, I could get the same treatment if I ever got in real trouble, but it wouldn't be worth the grief Mother would give me. So why was I getting it now? "I'm looking for Mrs Lee's husband. He's gone missing."

Long Feng didn't give me any reaction. "She didn't hire you."

"No. She didn't." I leaned back in my chair.

He waited.

So did I.

He said, "That's not an answer."

"Well, you haven't asked a question."

He sighed and looked over at his filing cabinets. "You were not born in America."

"Is my accent still that noticeable? Two people in two days have mentioned it."

"Your people have different concepts of conformity, of how to live as part of a society, than naturally-born Americans. You understand the ideal of the collective, of authority and obedience." Long Feng looked at me again. "That is the inspiration behind life here in Bullionville. Those of us born in America are trying to reclaim the classic values our parents were forced to abandon. I would have expected you to be more in harmony with our ways."

"Wow, and here I thought America was all about not judging by where you were born. I kind of like not having to kowtow, and you get baseball on the radio here in the States." I suppressed a yawn. "So is this talk about my lack of conformity going somewhere? I thought you wanted to ask me questions."

"I suppose I'm just surprised how difficult you are trying to be. Especially considering that I already know what you're doing." He stood and walked around the desk to loom over me. "I called your agency. Your secretary told me that you are engaged in a case. When I explained to him my authority and your situation, he volunteered that you have been contracted by Princess Azula of Manchukuo."

"Yes, I have a very unreliable secretary." I folded my arms and looked up at him. "I mainly keep him around because he's pretty."

"I can confirm that the man known as Zuko Lee is not in this town. He left six months ago and has not been back. Remaining here would be a waste of your time. Do you agree?"

I made him wait a bit for an answer. "I have come to the conclusion that I've learned everything there is to know from this place."

Long Feng smiled for the first time. "Agreed. You can collect your weapons and keys at the front desk, as well as the contraband journal we confiscated from Mrs Lee. I have a subordinate waiting to drive you back to your car. A gas truck filled your tank last night." He moved back around the desk and tossed me my wallet.

I flipped through it to make sure I wasn't missing any money, and wondered why he was giving me Jin's journal. I was going to offer to buy it anyway, but people didn't usually offer me evidence for free.

Well, there were other things I could spend Azula's money on, then. "I also want to buy the pictures you have of her."

Long Feng froze in the process of sitting down again. "Why?"

"Maybe I think she's cute." I nearly laughed at his reaction to that, and I took advantage of his imbalance to shift to, "I think it might be relevant to my case. And I'd hate to have to drive back here for anything, after parting on such nice terms."

Long Feng tried to stare me down, but I continued not to care. He didn't seem to know what to do about someone whose secrets weren't a path to public ruination or had a complete apathy to threats of violence.

He fully sat down and nodded. And named a sum. "And then Mrs Lee will be banned from my town. We do not tolerate girls of ill-repute here."

No, not unless he could blackmail them, apparently.

"That sounds fair. Pleasure doing business with you." I'd need to go back to Azula for more cash, but I had enough on me to cover it. And even if Zuko really was coming back for Jin, she had no chance of dealing with Azula. I was doing the kid a favor. Probably.

"Is there anything else you need?"

"Yeah." I turned for the door. "To get out of this creepy place."

* * *

Before driving away, I used my lighter to burn Jin's pictures and flipped through the journal that Long Feng thought I should have. It was filled with numbers and names and dates, all written in a cramped ink scrawl. It looked like so many documents I'd stolen on behalf of clients from bookies, secret accountants, and the other kinds of people who helped grease the wheels of crime with lubricating cash.

It was good that I wouldn't have to steal this from Jin, the way I'd stolen those other books.

Because it turned out that my parents' names were all over this one, and that would just be awkward.

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	4. A HOT TIME ON THE OLD TOWN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mai develops a solution that fits the known facts, and then the unknown facts try to kill her.

**PART 4: A HOT TIME ON THE OLD TOWN**

I'd gone looking for Zuko, but wound up finding incriminating evidence against my own parents. Apparently, I was a very bad detective.

I put Bullionville behind me and found a roadside diner with coffee that was hot and not entirely poisonous. Only then did I take the time to really go through journal in detail. The handwriting was neat but the writer must have been trying to get the most out of the paper. And he was very interested in all of the work being done here in America to support Imperial War of Conquest by New Manchukuo.

A single province of China, after all, couldn't just wage war on the rest of East Asia without help. Japan had originally backed Sozin's climb to power in what was then known as Manchuria and parts of Mongolia, and in return he gave the rest of China trouble with his 'independence movement.' But now that New Manchukuo was a true independent nation state under Ozai and actively trying to conquer new territory, it required other sources of money and materials. Ozai was being smart about it and diverting China's attention across multiple foreign enemies and fronts, while also sabotaging Japan's attempts to shore itself up, but that took a lot of deal-making and manipulating to arrange. Ozai couldn't do everything himself.

Hence the my parents dragging me and my brother to America, and their work raising money here in the States and 'donating' the war materials they were able to purchase with it. They weren't the only ones, of course, but they had moved up to a coordinating role after two decades. Or so Mother liked to brag. This all happened after our argument about how I wasn't allowed to become a cop, so I had to simply take her word for it.

The journal Long Feng had stolen from Jin sure backed it up, though. According to the records here, Father had a direct hand in pretty much all New Manchukuo's efforts in the Western United States.

The thing, though, was that none of this was illegal. Sure, I doubt Father would like seeing all these dates and sums laid out like this, never mind his contacts listed out by name, and Mother would go into hysterics at the thought of a foreign spy watching her and maybe following her into the bathroom. But this was hardly blackmail material, not like those pictures Long Feng had of Jin. The Chinese government would probably be willing to pay for this information, but they could hardly do much about it without messing with America's sovereignty. And they were courting the US as an ally right now, just like the European Allies. But, at the very least, the journal made a strong case that putting a bomb in Father's car might knock a temporary dent in the Manchukuo war capability.

And Jin said it had come from Zuko. Was this what Azula was really after? But why would _Zuko_ of all people be putting together a case against my parents? Against New Manchukuo?

This was starting to look bigger than what a single private investigator usually was involved with.

The sun was setting again by the time I finished going through the book. I stubbed out my cigarette and finished the last cup of coffee. I used to favor tea, even here in America, but after years of smoking I could barely taste the kind my parents brewed anymore.

I went up to the counter and asked about a motel where I wouldn't have to worry about rodents.

* * *

When I called Kei Lo from my motel room, the relief was clear in his voice. "You're out of jail! Mister Long Feng proved reasonable, then."

"Yeah, and I didn't even have to bribe him." I still didn't know why _he_ wanted me to have the journal. Maybe he'd looked at it and decided that it was trouble he didn't need. "Has Azula blown her wig yet?"

"She- uh- she seems to be waiting patiently for you to return. She called the agency today to confirm that Reno was your destination. She said she forgot to write it down."

As far as pretenses for checking up on me went, it wasn't very good, but Azula had never felt compelled to make much of an effort with that kind of thing. "She probably just wanted to sweat you for a bit. I'll be back tomorrow, and then you can go back to just keeping your trap shut and thinking about her legs."

"Thanks. Was it a productive excursion?"

I thought about what to tell him. I didn't employ him for his brains, and he'd spilled the beans about the case to Long Feng after just a little pressure. I still didn't have a specific reason to hide things from Azula, other than retaliation for hiding that she'd already found Zuko six months ago.

But I'm the detective here, I hate being confused, and I think I'd rather shoot myself than risk someone else putting the clues together before I could.

"I'm not sure," I told him. "I might have tripped over something, but it might just be a trip for biscuits. If Azula calls again, tell her to go take in a show and wait for me to get back. But don't say it so that she refuses to give me more money."

* * *

I set out the next morning after returning to my diner base for breakfast. I took the rest of the drive even faster than my journey to Bullionville, and got back to the find the city's air stinking of weight and humidity, promising more rain soon. There was a sticky heat that doused the area in fog, and I knew that when the sun set, we'd be reduced to a city of glaring lights that did nothing to touch the shadows.

That didn't affect the street traffic. It took me hours to get to Ty Lee's apartment, long enough for me to wish I'd stopped for lunch. When I did arrive, though, I had a run of luck. I was able to find a boy who took a quarter to make sure no one messed with my car. And not only was Ty Lee home and sober enough to answer the door when I knocked, but she also didn't have anyone over who I'd have to chase away no matter how little clothing he was wearing.

"Hi," Ty Lee sputtered as I brushed past her in to her rooms. They were nice rooms, despite the neighborhood. "Sure, I'd love some company."

"Good. Are you working tonight?" I went for her liquor cabinet and helped myself.

"Yeah." She smoothed her bathrobe and came over to join me. "Zhao's not going to be there, though, if you want to come around."

I wasn't expecting that, and paused before I could poor myself a finger of bourbon. "Really? That might do nicely. Where's your boss going to be?"

Ty Lee made a face and took the bottle from me to pour herself a lunch, too. "Just out back at the pier. He's got something coming in tomorrow, something special, and he's making sure everything is set up just right. So don't, you know, shoot anyone on the casino floor or anything. Or whatever you're fixing to do."

I downed my bourbon and sighed. "It's something even more dangerous."

"Oh." She blinked at me, and then turned to take a look outside the window as if expecting to see a gathering of invading hordes. "I still have that present you gave me. I had to hide it at work, but I can get to it easily."

I put my glass down and went over to give her a very reassuring single pat on the shoulder. "Use the gun if you need it, but I'm not going to be putting you in any danger. What this is really about is- well, I need to meet with my parents and I don't want the people spying on them to know about it."

She turned and frowned at me. "People are spying on your parents?"

"Yeah, and somehow the poor suckers haven't died of boredom. So, can you help me with the arrangements?"

* * *

Father and Mother weren't gamblers, unless a social obligation called for it, but Zhao's club offered more than just the backdoor casino. Ty Lee made some calls and called in some favors, and a special invitation went out for a reserved table for two far from the main dance floor. My parents didn't have a usual table, but they visited often enough that the staff knew how to accommodate them.

I went with Ty Lee when she showed up for her singing job. Since I was using the employees' entrance, I suffered the indignity of being searched for contraband and weapons. It wasn't as bad for me as it was for Ty Lee; she was dressed for work, and people took her 'uniform' to be a kind of invitation for that kind of thing.

Then we parted, Ty Lee to the casino bar's piano and me to the main ladies' washroom. It was nice, with plenty of polished brass, but not the kind of place I usually loitered in. I tried not to count the time I spent waiting there, either in minutes or cigarettes, but at least no one bothered me. To them, I was just another dish taking a long smoking break away from whatever insufferable man was trying to buy me dinner first.

Eventually, the parade of visitors turned up who I was looking for, a woman immaculately coiffed in the latest fashion, her jewelry both tasteful and ridiculously expensive. Her hair was as dark as mine, which meant she must have just had it dyed again, but her lack of wrinkles was something I suppose I could look forward to inheriting. She had crow's feet at the corner of her eyes, but I was probably going to get those early from all the glaring I did, or so she had always told me.

"Mai?! Mother gave me a dumbfounded stare, and then recovered enough of her supposed dignity put her hands on her hips. "I suppose you arranged all this as part of your ridiculous hobby."

"It's actually my job, but yeah." I blew out a cloud of smoke. "Cigarette?"

"No, thank you. I only take hand-rolled."

"Of course you do." I stepped around her to lock the washroom door. "I'll keep this short so you can get back to your soup course. Are you aware that the _work_ you and Father do is being watched and recorded?"

She blinked at me. "I- aware- are you saying that someone is spying on us?"

"That's right."

Instead of the expected shriek of fear and humiliation, she huffed and gave a little shake of her head. "Well, I suppose it's to be expected. Emperor Ozai is very reliant on our efforts, so it only makes sense that he would want to monitor and protect us."

"What?" Despite being a detective, it took me a moment to figure out what she was talking about. "Wait, you think- you think Ozai is the one spying on you?"

Mother actually rolled her eyes at me. "Naturally. Who else but _Emperor_ Ozai would dare? Princess Azula is in the city -- I _do_ hope you've paid your respects while wearing something nice -- and I expect that among her duties here is checking in on the network."

I covered my lack of response my focusing on my cigarette. I'd assumed that the spy must be an enemy, but this book supposedly came from _Zuko,_ and Iroh, Jin, and Long Feng all confirmed that he signed on with Azula six months ago. Maybe she'd tapped her brother to run her American spy network? But he'd gone missing, and now she was cleaning up after him. With my help.

If that was true -- and it fit everything I'd uncovered so far -- then it would be a relief. The only intrigue was about preserving the cover of the spy network. Everyone was working for Ozai and New Manchukuo, including me, and I just had to focus on finding Zuko and keeping him safe from the people trying to sabotage my Homeland. Something nice and straightforward, but not quite to the point where I was transforming from a detective to a soldier.

I smiled and flicked my cigarette into a sink. "Then I guess I'd better get to cleaning up after Azula, shouldn't I?"

"I don't know, should you?" Mother fluffed her hair. "But _I_ need the washroom, and your father and the appetizers are waiting. I don't suppose you have time to say hello?"

"Nah." I unlocked the door and opened it. "I'm going to be working late as it is."

* * *

My family obligations satisfied, I headed for the hotel I'd stayed at before leaving for Bullionville. I still hadn't accounted for Scarred Man, and it was possible he was the one who had made Zuko disappear. If so, I was no longer amused by him. Perhaps it was time to arrange a meeting with him, a nice little conversation we could conduct with flying lead. But it had been a long day, and hopping hotels again was probably overly paranoid, so I headed there to figure out my next move. I needed something to report to Azula, and perhaps going over the journal again would reveal some kind of SOS from Zuko.

When drove up to find a pair of Yuyan thugs loitering across the street, I realized there was no such thing as _overly_ paranoid when it came to armed criminals.

I nearly missed them in the fog, but their glowing cigarettes gave them away as I drove past the hotel's front on the way to the garage. Sure, there was no reason to think they were there for me; maybe they were shaking the hotel down for protection money, or waiting for some guest who owed them debts, or giving their boss some time alone in one of the rooms with a girl who got paid up front. It was possible.

I turned at the intersection, made my way down a couple of blocks and around another few corners, and parked my car on the street. With my Colt .38 Auto in hand, I made my way back to the hotel by the least direct route I could manage.

The Yuyan thugs were just shadows in the fog as I approached them from the rear of the alley, but their postures weren't those of men who thought themselves in danger. Their cigarettes still glowed.

I raised my gun, ready to shoot at the first sign of trouble, and eased my way from foot to foot down the alley. I had grown up in a place where silent walking was still an art, and I could even manage it in heels. But I ran out of luck when one of the shadows turned to stand behind his compatriot, unzipped the front of his pants, and turned its head in my direction.

I'll give the Yuyan their reputation. I hadn't even realized I'd been spotted when the man shifted his attention away from preparing to take a leak to pull his gun from somewhere in his jacket.

But _my_ gun was already out.

And for all their earned reputation, no one in the Yuyan gang was a better shot than me.

I pulled the trigger first, thunder echoed in the alley, and the shadow dropped. One shot, one body.

By then the other shadow was raising a gun and flitting out the mouth of the alley to find cover. I ducked behind a trashcan just in time to only lose a corner of the lapel of my raincoat to a bullet that screamed past me. The ground was filthy and damp and I didn't care as I scrambled diagonally into the obscuring fog and more bullets punched their way straight through my tragic comrade the trashcan.

No Yuyan was such an amateur that they'd pull the trigger on an empty clip, but the slight hesitation at that moment was enough for me to know that a reload was in process. My ears were still ringing from the echoes of the shots in the alley, and I couldn't even guess where exactly my opponent might be cowering. So I did the only smart thing I could in the situation if I didn't want to run away and watch my back for the rest of my life.

I picked up the trashcan, flung it with all my strength at the mouth of the alley, and dashed right after it out onto the sidewalk.

I collided with a body that was trying to get away from the bouncing trashcan. My back struck the wall behind me, which rattled enough to tell me that I'd hit a glass storefront. I heard voices shouting within about some morons firing off guns in the middle of the night as I leveled my Colt at the shadow I'd bumped into as it leveled something at me but I was already pulling the trigger and like the lightning and thunder of the gods I ended the fight with a flash and a bang.

The shadow dropped. Two shots, two bodies.

I'd survived.

Then the window behind me shattered. I turned in the direction the bullet had to have come from, looking for another Yuyan, but all I saw was my hotel across the street, burning the fog away from it with searing lights that proclaimed its vacancy to the heavens. I didn't see anything dangerous at first, so I scanned upward. A black shape like a bug was twisting in front of the marquis lighting that spelled out 'The Emperor's Palace.'

It was another shadow.

Aiming a rifle at me.

I hissed as I dived back into the alley.

I don't know where the next bullet hit, but I heard the ricochet. Screams emerged through the shattered storefront behind me. I angled myself so that there was a whole building between me and the rifleman, but he would already be moving if he was a true Yuyan. Then I'd be in a big thin killing box with nothing to help me, not even a trashcan.

So I looked up, raised my pistol, and prepared to go down firing. It was quite a distance for a pistol, but not impossible, not for me. Just very, _very_ difficult.

Against the fog-burning lights of the Imperial Palace Hotel, seven stories above the street, I saw the rifleman sidle back into view and aim his weapon. I also saw another shadow coming up from behind, and wondered if there was a competition to see whose bullet would put me down.

Then that second shadow fell on the rifleman. Their wrestling played out in front of the marquis, looking like a shadow play like they performed back home, but to the fighters it must have been a brutal contest of strength and tactics.(Like they performed back home.) They stumbled into the corner of the roof, twisting around so that I could no longer tell which was which. How the winner eventually emerged, I couldn't tell.

But in the end, that one shadow lifted the other up over the lip of the hotel's roof and dumped the body into the air. It fell down into the darkness between the hotel and the neighboring building.

A rifle followed it.

Screams were still echoing from the broken window behind me.

I should have left, but I stayed there, in the mouth of the alley, staring up at the winner. I couldn't make out much detail in the glare of the lights, but I could tell that it was a broad-shouldered individual. And he -- I was fairly certain it was a he -- was looking back down at me.

I waited as he threw a rope over the edge of the hotel roof. I watched as he, very capably, rappelled down the side of the building as if he did this every day and found it easier than explaining to the hotel staff why he was throwing people around. I stood there as he landed on the empty sidewalk and dashed across the street towards me.

I raised my gun. The fog swirled, fighting against the streetlights, and parted enough to reveal the acid scar on the face.

I kept my gun aimed at the eye in the center of that scar. With every step, the shadows receded a little more from the rest of the face. I tightened my finger on the trigger.

And before I could make that final click, I realized who I was aiming at.

It was the Scarred Man, of course. The man who'd been following me. The one I'd feared was trying to kill me. I'd never seen the rest of his face before- not for many years, at least. The last time, it had been the face of a boy barely thirteen years old, a face untouched by blemish, a face that should have been the talk of the Imperial Court. Decades had passed, and an apparently rough life, but I still recognized that face.

Because it wasn't just the Scarred Man.

It was Zuko.

* * *

I stood in the mouth of the alley, the fog swirling around me. Zuko was in the middle of the street, the full power of his lopsided glare on me and my gun.

He lifted his hands from his sides. "Are you going to shoot me?"

There was no mistaking the voice. Harsh and vulnerable at the same time. A whisper grown into a growl. A voice that had turned my name into a song at a time when I it seemed like everyone else turned it into a swear. But there was a flatness to it now that was new, as if the possibility of me putting a bullet in his head didn't particularly concern him. Had this new tone come with the scar on his face?

I lowered the gun.

He blew out a breath. "I really wasn't sure you'd do that. Are you-"

But whatever he was going to say was cut off by the sirens of the cops who were finally making their way to the scene of the crime. A crime Zuko and I were the only survivors of. We weren't actually criminals, but there were dead people and smashed windows. And who knew what Zuko's legal status was?

I grabbed his shirt, pulled him into the alley with me, and together we ran through the fog. I brought him to where I'd left my car, and I was moving to the driver's side when he grabbed my arm, holding me in place.

I turned to ask what the big idea was, but the question died in my throat when I found our faces close enough that even the fog didn't dare come between us.

"You can't go home," he said. "The Yuyan are watching your apartment."

Which implied Zuko had been watching me as well.

The sirens and voices were far enough away that I decided to risk asking, "And why are they watching me? I don't owe anyone money."

"They're working for my sister. Local talent who know the area." An expression flickered across his face, and he looked me up and down. He let go of my arm to step back. "Like you."

It was almost a question, but not quite.

I stayed where I was, letting the wisps of fog waft into the void between us. "Like me. Implying that you're _not_ like me. And why is Azula having minions watching other minions?"

"I- I don't know." He scowled, making the smooth side of his face resemble the other half. "She's always played her games with people. With-"

"With _us,_ " I interrupted, turning away from him and putting my hand on the car door. I didn't know quite what was going on, not anymore, but I did know one thing. "You should probably go. Don't tell me where. If I don't know, I can't tell Azula. Or be _made_ to tell her."

"Mai-" I heard him take a step, and looked to find him closer to me.

I shook my head at him. "I became a private eye because I thought if I could find the truth, I'd know who to protect and how. But it turns out that being left in the dark might be the safest thing for everyone." I opened the car door-

-and Zuko slid in the driver's seat. "We'll go to my place. Azula won't find us there."

I stared, trying to figure out why he was doing this, but the truth is that I'm not much a detective. I'd even accepted _Mother's_ explanation for that journal. I guess I had wanted it to be true. "How can you trust me? If you haven't realized it, not shooting you may just be my way of getting in your good graces. I'm tricky like that."

"Mai-" He looked at me, the scar on his face giving him such a sense of tragic history, but he managed a smile that reminded me of a boy who thought the world was full of people who just wanted to do the right thing. "If we know the truth, we know how to find our path forward. And I think I know you well enough to tell when you're lying."

This couldn't be a good idea.

I tossed him the keys anyway and walked around to the other side of the car. "If you're so sure, then you drive. You know how?"

"Get in and find out." His face shifted into a confident smirk that reminded me of warm days back in Manchukuo, when a look like that could turn my face red and make me want to run away and hide. Instead, I slid into the passenger seat and crossed my legs in a way I knew was flattering.

He held the smile for another moment before suddenly losing his cheer and looking away. He lifted a hand to touch the scar on the side of his face that was now hidden to me.

As if he'd just realized that it was new for me.

I reached over and slapped the hand away from his face. "Both hands on the wheel. Mother would kill me if I trashed _another_ one of these."

That got a chuckle out of him. "Yes, ma'am."

He squared his broad shoulders, spared a look at my legs, and then we were off into the foggy night.

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	5. EVERY SITUATION HER MOTHER WARNED HER ABOUT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mai and Zuko shed some light on things before the darkness falls once again.

**PART 5: EVERY SITUATION HER MOTHER WARNED HER ABOUT**

I didn't usually go home with a guy after just one shootout together, but apparently my standards were slipping all around.

Zuko took me to a neighborhood in the Mission District. He parked my car on the street, and then led me a block away to a two-story house, where we took a set of wooden stairs around the back to the second floor. He turned out to be one of those who keeps the key under the mat, but I'd seen him throw a man off a building tonight, so I decided not to judge him.

The place was just one room. The bed was against the far wall with a phone and an ashtray on the nightstand next to it. A kitchenette was crammed into one side, opposite the door to the bathroom. The only concessions to non-essential needs were a radio on a dinged-up stand near the bed and a set of dusty floral drapes covering the two windows over the bed.

The whole thing could have been dropped onto my penthouse deck with enough room leftover for a game of catch.

The first thing I did was head over to the windows and peek past the drapes into the night. All I saw was fog, but that was fine. A Yuyan rifleman would be more inconvenienced by it than us.

"Make yourself at home," Zuko said as he closed the door. He didn't lock it.

I allowed myself a look at the acid burn that streaked across one side of his face. It had fooled me into thinking he was a stranger, and I had a burn of my own to find out where he'd gotten it. But the last thing I wanted to do was hurt him, so I just said, "You live here?"

"I'm renting it for a while." He took his hat off and tossed it on the radio.

"How long is a while? Until you find Azula?"

He gave me a look as he took off his raincoat. "Why would I want to find my sister?"

"Okay, stupid question." I took notice of the chest-holster he was wearing over his shirt, and that he had a nice revolver tucked into it. "I guess I'm really asking why you would want to find _me._ "

He hung his jacket on the back of the door and then continued to stare at it. I let him have his hesitation and wondered if there was anything to drink in this room. I hadn't eaten since before my rendezvous with Ty Lee, but I never liked to eat after shooting people. Something about the smell of food made it hard to willfully forget the blood and the dead look in my victims' eyes.

Azula had never had that problem, she'd told me.

Finally, Zuko turned to face me. "You're the one who's been trying to find me, right? You talked to Zhao. You were asking for me at the Pai Sho parlors. You met with either Uncle or one of his weird friends. I don't know where you went when you drove out of town, but neither does Azula. She's had her goons out in force keeping their eyes open for you."

"But you only know that because you were watching me in the first place. I saw you at Zhao's casino, and you already had your eyes on me." There was nowhere to sit but the bed, so I leaned against a kitchenette wall like Mother hated. "I think we're both cautiously trying to figure out if we're enemies, and one of us is going to have to fold first."

His lips twitched. "Yeah. But I don't think you're just supposed to just say it like that."

"Well, I've never had much patience for the roundabout approach when what I want is right in front of me."

He didn't react to my wording. "I remember that. So do you want to stay and talk things through, or would you rather keep your jacket on?"

I let him wait a moment. Then I took off my jacket and slipped my feet out of my shoes. I gave it all to him and watched him hang the jacket up on top of his and put the shoes right next to the door.

That left me committed. "I want to talk things through. And I'll even make the first move. I went left town to go to Bullionville."

His jaw dropped. "You went- you mean- _my_ Bullionville?"

"The one in Nevada, yes." I folded my arms and watched his reactions. "I saw your house. I met Jin." He flinched at that name. "I heard about you leaving with Azula." He gave a scowl, here. The guy just couldn't keep a lid on his feelings. "I _don't_ know where you went after that. Did she take you home?"

"No." Zuko sighed and looked at his feet. "She said she would, but first I needed to complete a mission for her."

I nodded my encouragement. Now were exchanging information. "She wanted you to spy on my parents and their network."

Zuko's head snapped up and he blinked at me. "No, she wanted me to kidnap or kill the Avatar."

The Avatar again. I still had no explanation for how he was supposed to fit into things, if he wasn't just a convenient enemy who Azula could blame for Zuko's disappearance. "I have your journal, Zuko. The one you sent to your house. Jin was holding it and Long Feng took it and gave it to me, and-"

"You _have_ it?!" All of a sudden he was right in front of me, his hands wrapped around my shoulders. "Where is it? I- I can pay you, if that's what you want?"

His grip wasn't strong enough to hurt, so I decided that there was no threat in his reaction. He wasn't shaking me or trying to intimidate me. It was like he was afraid that if he didn't hold onto me, I'd disappear and leave him alone.

I realized that I'd had no instinct or reflex to reach for my guns. My body had figured things out before my brain.

I inclined my head towards the door. "It's in my glove box. You can have it, free of charge. I still don't know why I wound up with it, anyway."

He exploded with a relieved sigh and gave me a dopey smile that he should have outgrown about twenty years ago. "Thank you. I- I'll just go get it. You can wait here. Um, help yourself to anything in the icebox, if you like?" He let go of my shoulders and even tried to straighten my dress out for me.

I pushed him back with enough lightness to keep things casual. "Is it okay if I use your phone, instead? I should call my secretary and tell him not to panic if my name comes up in relation to dead Yuyan."

"Oh, um, sure. Phone's over there. I'll just- I still have your keys, so- I'll be right back?"

I waved at him. "Don't keep me waiting too long. You still owe me some answers."

* * *

Kei Lo actually sounded hurt. "I was expecting you to call much earlier. How long have you been back in town?"

"Who cares?" I was seated on Zuko's bed, as the phone cord wasn't very long. The mattress was annoyingly creaky. "The new thing to worry about is that a trio of Yuyan were watching the hotel I stayed at before I left. I wound up having a shootout with them. The cops have three more tattooed bodies to clean up."

Kei Lo was silent for long enough that I started to wonder if we'd been cut off. "This is getting too dangerous. Where are you? What do you need from me? I don't think I could lose you-"

"Yeah, thanks. But don't worry about me for now." I considered telling him that I had very capable help, but why should I bother? Kei Lo should know that I'm very capable, myself. "I found a hiding place in the Mission District. Don't tell anyone that you've heard from me. Check on my parents, but don't contact them. If you hear from Azula, tell her I got a flat tire and still haven't made it back into town. And do it nicely so she still gives us money. If the cops want to talk to me, they get the same story, including the lie that I went to Reno. Got it?"

"Of course. But I could do more for you. If I know where you're staying, I could bring you-"

"It's fine. Wait for my next contact." I hung up before he could keep arguing. Honestly, some men should be seen and not heard.

Since I was already on Zuko's bed, I figured the facade of decorum had completely broken down, so I stayed there and lit up a Camel. When Zuko came back, with the journal in his hands, I held out my pack. "Cigarette?"

* * *

Zuko stared at me for a moment, and then nodded and come over to sit next to me. He tossed the journal on the bed's pillow and took a Camel. I lit it for him, and then grabbed the ashtray from next to the phone and put it in the space between us. We just sat there together for a while, smoking together.

Eventually, he said, "It was Jin who sold me out to Azula."

I raised an eyebrow of encouragement. No need to ruin a confession with unnecessary words.

He nodded. "I had spent years trying to find a way to end my banishment. Uncle and I went to Europe and tried to help with the reconstruction, but we didn't find anything that would bring me the glory Father said I had to earn. So we wound up coming to America. I thought we'd find cowboys here, but I guess that's all done now. But we did find the criminal societies selling alcohol illegally. Back when it was illegal."

I snorted a laugh. "Are you telling me you were a shine runner?"

He smiled but shook his head. "I tried to help the law enforcement, actually. Volunteered to infiltrate the mob- you know, the Italians? This was in Chicago-"

"Oh, no, please tell me you didn't get involved with Capone!"

"Not directly." Zuko took a long drag of his cigarette and tapped some ash into the tray. "But I did make enemies. Didn't really help the police much, though. In the end, Uncle and I had to leave the city. People followed- the bad kind of people. So we headed west, and tried to find someplace quiet. Protected. Where we could just disappear."

The picture became clearer in my mind's eye. "Bullionville. Long Feng's peaceful, fenced-in little town of happiness."

"Exactly." He hunched over and stared at the floor. "I met Jin there. She was nice. Uncle- he encouraged things. I guess I didn't really know her all that well, but- after some of what I'd seen in Chicago- and the way we'd had to run- I- I had to accept that I'd probably never get home. That I didn't have what it would take to win my way back. So, I- I settled in." He looked over at me, his body tensing.

Like he was expecting to be yelled at. Or hit.

I exhaled a cloud of smoke. "Understandable. Sometimes, the only thing we can do to keep from breaking is to just go along with whatever's happening around you. And Jin _is_ pretty cute."

"I never thought she'd betray me." Zuko's frame relaxed again, despite the topic. "She's the one who told Long Feng that I was royalty from Manchuria. He contacted Azula, and then one night my little sister was on my doorstep. She explained how Jin had been paying Long Feng money for something for years, even showed me the bank statements that Jin had hid from me. Azula said that Jin had finally used my identity to buy her freedom. And then she told me that Father wants me back, and there was a way to make it happen."

Zuko stood up to pace in front of the bed, and continued with, "I couldn't believe that Jin would hide something like that!. And- and it seemed like my destiny had finally arrived. So- so I listened to Azula. I left. Jin's probably better off without me, anyway."

I leaned back and sent a plume of smoke to splash against the ceiling. It was all starting to come together, and not just Zuko's history. "It was nude pictures."

Zuko stopped his pacing and turned to me. "What?"

"Long Feng had pictures of Jin. I've seen it plenty of times before. A girl is on her own for the first time, can't make ends meet, and someone comes along and says he can give her the money she needs. She just has to let him take a few pictures. Maybe it becomes more than just pictures. But, years later, when the girl isn't starving anymore and has put all that behind her, it's the pictures that bring the trouble back. Maybe it's the original guy, or someone new who acquired copies. Doesn't matter. Either way, he says that if she doesn't want people finding out what she did to survive, or how bad things got for her, she has to share her newfound good fortune. That's why she was paying Long Feng."

Zuko's cigarette hung forgotten from his lips. "But- but finding out wouldn't have mattered to me!"

"So? It mattered to _her,_ every day since she got pulled into it. She'd lived with the shame in her head for so long that it was all she could see."

"Then why-"

"Did she sell you out? Well, if you worked in Chicago, you probably know how it works. The rates go up, right?"

Zuko's eyes went wide. "And when she couldn't pay, Long Feng demanded some other kind of compensation. He was probably curious about me. And if she told him everything, that would pay her debts. So he got my history and sold it to Azula."

I took the cigarette from my mouth and pointed it at him. "That's my bet. And that's why he gave _me_ the journal. My stupid secretary told him I'm working for Azula, after he'd arrested me, and he had wound up with a book full of information on New Manchukuo's business here in America. The guy probably figured that Azula would see it as trying to double-cross her. So he gave the journal to me, sent me on my way with a slap on the wrist, and is hoping he didn't bite off more than he can chew."

Zuko resettled his cigarette. "You got arrested?"

"Not my first time, either." I winked at him. "I'm a bad girl."

He snorted something like a laugh and sat back down next to me. "I didn't think Jin would still be there when I sent the book back home. I wouldn't have risked getting her involved."

"Involved with what?" I leaned forward again and tapped some ash off my Camel. "You left off with going to work for Azula."

"Well, she wanted me to take out the Avatar. You know, the Tibetan monk kid? He's trying to get the American government to intervene against New Manchukuo. I was supposed to either kill him or capture him for my father."

Azula probably should have just sent me after the guy in the first place, instead of all this roundabout Zuko business. But I wasn't complaining. "I'm guessing you didn't."

"I tried. Hunted him. Chased him. Attacked him. He wasn't easy prey, though. And- I couldn't help hearing his message. What's going on. What our war is doing. I tried to think of it as lies, but- well, I looked into things, as much as I could. The Avatar also helps refugees, and they- there were too many of them to be part of a campaign of liars." Zuko had forgotten his cigarette again, this time poised between his fingers, the smoke rise up in an unbroken line. "Eventually, I started to see things more clearly. Especially- well, there's my- my face."

I wanted to ask about it. I went through a million different ways to phrase the question, trying to find the combination of words that would be the most sensitive. The least painful. Something that mixed concern with respect with empathy.

In the end, I said nothing. As usual.

But he looked at me, and must have seen something on my face. He reached out and took my hand in his.

"Did you ever hear," he said, "how I got banished?"

I shook my head.

"I was at a war council meeting. One of the generals mentioned ideas for the use of a chemical weapon. Something purchased from the European Allies, from the first World War. Uncle had studied the war, and I knew from him that such things were both cruel and imprecise, as much a danger to our own people as the enemy. So I spoke out, calling it a coward's unreliable weapon." His face pinched into a scowl. "It turned out to have all been on my father's orders. I had unknowingly insulted my parent and Emperor."

I couldn't make myself say anything. I knew Ozai was cruel to Zuko, and had no love for my Emperor, but the detective in me wondered why the story of his banishment was being provided as an answer to the matter of his scar.

My stomach clenched with dread.

Zuko said, "He challenged me to a duel, to let combat decide our disagreement. But- but I yielded. I refused to raise a hand to him and begged his mercy and forgiveness. He-" Zuko swallowed roughly. "He laughed and said the true coward reveals his nature. He-" Zuko's voice caught, and he couldn't make himself speak again.

I pulled my hand out of his to rub his back. "Zuko, you don't have to. I don't need to know."

"Yes." He took a deep breath and sat up straight. "You do. He said that if I was wrong about him being a coward, I must be wrong about the weapon's effectiveness as well, and should help prove it. He ordered one of the components of the compound brought out, an acid liquid. He raised it- he raised it over my face-" His voice broke down again, and his hand moved to the scar.

I laid my head on his shoulder and kept rubbing his back, so that he would know I was here and shared his revulsion. And I tried not to be sick all over him.

There was no way Azula hadn't known.

And I'd been working for her. For all of them.

My family had been collecting and sending money to Ozai for decades. Mother had recruited allies for him, made deals for him. He was shooting howitzers that Father had purchased for him. And I'd enjoyed the rewards of it all, using my family's money to set up my little Private Investigator practice and stick my nose into people's lives.

I'd seen all kinds of ugliness and exposed it to the light of day with a photograph or a testimony or maybe just some stolen records. Sometimes I had to settle for saving just one person, like when I'd burned Jin's photos. But sometimes I couldn't do anything. And for every bit I did bring to an end, there was more out there, waiting and growing and festering. It was a disease that affected all of humanity.

Every time, though, I'd walked away with a sense of superiority. I'd saunter in and out of people's lives with a shining gun and fetish for action. I was a stainless steel sleuth, cold and hard and polished. I'd managed to get away from Azula, more or less, and stay apart from my parents' work for a war that I'd been _bored with._ I helped hide Ty Lee, but let her keep working for Zhao. I was even going to warn Zuko about Azula, maybe save him from whatever trouble he was in.

I'd been too late by decades.

I wasn't steel, stainless or not. I was iron, dark and strong, but turning to rust in the muggy heat of my choices.

But my bad feelings didn't matter. Zuko was the one sitting here with no home and a piece of his face boiled away. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you." He put his cigarette back in his mouth and took pleasure in its fumes. "I realized who my true enemy was, and joined the Avatar to end my father's war. His _reign._ And my role is showing how that war is truly being fought. I spied and investigated and wrote it all down in that journal. I watched your parents and their contacts." He suddenly seemed to realize how much we were touching. "I watched you."

I gave him a blank expression. "Good thing I always dress for company."

He gave me another laugh, and that eased my stomach. "It's all that journal. Once I get it to the Avatar, we can take it to his friends in the government, and show the Americans the organization under their own noses. The Avatar can use it to convince the United States to finally take real action."

I sat back, letting the scale of it spread through my imagination. It was surprisingly smart. Even if America didn't fire a shot, the right sanctions could cripple New Manchukuo's forward momentum. Maybe even let China push back, or give Japan the opportunity to get its act together.

No wonder Azula was here.

And that put together the last piece for me. "Azula didn't like losing you. She was closing in, so you dumped the book in the mail and let the post smuggle it your old house, where you could pick it up."

"Well, I thought I could have one of the Avatar's companions pick it up for me, once I could safely get a message to them. They don't exactly have a consistent phone number. But yes, that was the plan." Zuko tapped some ash into the tray. "Now it's back here in the city with me. I need to get it out."

I made a decision without even realizing it. " _We_ need to get it out."

He blinked at me. "You'd help me? Despite your parents? Your home here?"

"Zuko-" I paused to wipe at my eyes. "-how could I possibly hear what you just said and not want to help? I- I don't want to be someone whose life _hurts_ so many other people. I never did, but- but now I can't make myself forget it again." I reached up, slowly, giving Zuko enough time to stop me.

He didn't.

I brushed my fingers against his scar. "Now I can see it."

"Thank you." He smiled. It was hard to believe that I'd ever found that scar a bit menacing. It didn't detract from the rest of him, and I still liked the honesty it revealed. "Maybe we can actually do this."

The way he said it, I could make myself believe it. But a part of me was making plans for if we couldn't. In that case, I would settle for painting the walls with Azula's brains. Sometimes, the best we could do was destroy those who are worse than us.

In some ways I'm a classy girl and in some ways I'm not. Trying to be consistent about it sounds exhausting.

So I said, "And how do we go about doing that?"

"We stay safe and wait for the morning. Then we'll slip out of the city again. Azula might not know who took out those Yuyan, not for sure. If we can get past her spies, we'll find Aang- er, the Avatar. Together, we can-"

I tapped some ash off my cigarette. "We can see what comes next."

"Yes."

"So, step one is to stay safe and wait for the morning, huh? How safe are we talking, here?"

The look he gave me was all the reply I needed. There was no more to say. We finished our cigarettes, side by side on the bed, just sitting there. I enjoyed the silence.

The air was getting warm in the room, but opening the window would have let the fog in. Zuko and I could have also put some distance between our bodies, but I didn't mind the heat that much, and he didn't seem to care either. Every so often I'd glance at him to find his own gaze angled towards me. Our eyes would meet, and I'd smile and Zuko's lips would twitch in reply. Little signals of our continued presence and attention.

I leaned against him. He didn't shift away from me, so I reached over and took his gun out of its holster. I laid it on the nightstand, and then deposited my own Colt next to it.

Without disturbing the ash from the end of his cigarette, he took my hands in his, and then slid his fingers up my sleeves, finding my little holdout pistols. He held them out to me by the barrels, and I dutifully put them on the pile of weapons on the nightstand.

He reached for the back of my head, and began undoing my hair bun.

While he occupied himself with that, I started unbuttoning his shirt. Each button revealed more of a strong, well-muscled chest. Once his shirt was fully open, I brushed my hand over the skin. He made a little chuckle I could feel resonate through him.

I took the cigarette from his lips, and stubbed both his and mine out in the ashtray. Then I turned and stretched across the bed to return the dish to the nightstand.

As I struggled to find a spot not already occupied by a deadly weapon, his hands traveled up my legs all the way to my back, and he stretched alongside me.

* * *

The morning did not bring the sun, but rather the tapping of rain against the window. I listened to it for a bit, and realized it was mingled with the sound of someone taking a shower. Zuko's mattress creaked awfully under me as I angled my head and half-opened one eye. The drapes were pulled aside, and it was absolutely pouring outside.

I was the only one in the bed.

I really did consider just drifting back off to sleep until the shower was free. But we had work to do this morning. I groaned, opened my eyes into enough of a squint to find my clothes on the floor beside the bed, and started blindly getting myself dressed.

I was almost decent when Azula's voice rang with, "Congratulations, Mai. I can see you've found _everything_ you were looking for."

My reaction was flawless. I snagged my Colt from the nightstand, opened my eyes all the way, and whirled with precision to aim where the voice had come from.

Azula was leaning against the little stove in the kitchenette, grinning at me.

And half a dozen Yuyan thugs stood on the far side of the apartment, all aiming machine guns at me. If I fired, even if I took Azula out, I'd be dead before I could think about a second shot. And it wouldn't be worth it, because Zuko would fare no better against a kill squad of Yuyan that I could right now.

Azula glanced at one of them. "Vachir, you know what to do."

One of the Yuyan stepped forward, putting his machine gun on the floor and taking a handgun out to cover me. He approached me until he was a full armslength away, and relieved me of my Colt.

Then he stepped forward and slammed the butt of his gun on the back of my head with enough force to knock the light straight out of my eyeballs.

When the light came back, it was thick and blurry and I found myself on the floor. Blinking didn't make the blurriness go away, and for some reason the view kept moving around like I was bobbing on the bay. I tried to push myself up, but my arms and legs called in sick, and my voice couldn't manage even a proper groan, never mind the warning to Zuko that I tried to scream.

My ears worked, more or less. Sound was a bit tinny, and the noise of the storm against the windows mixed with the patter of the shower, but I could understand words.

I knew because Azula's voice echoed above me as her high-heels and stockings came into view: "Don't worry, Mai. I don't want you dead. We wouldn't want to upset your parents' ability to continue working, after all. Vachir is just going to take you somewhere safe and _teach you loyalty._ I hope you apply yourself to yourself to your lessons. It will go better for you, that way."

But then one of those high-heels drew back and swung into my face and this time the darkness didn't go away.

**TO BE CONCLUDED**


	6. LOVE AND OTHER FATAL CONDITIONS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Case closed.

**PART 6: LOVE AND OTHER FATAL CONDITIONS**

I'd developed a poor habit of waking up in handcuffs.

This time I was in no comfortable bed, or even my own cozy jail cell. I found myself in a heavy wooden chair, my wrists cuffed to its arms. The air was damp, and the space around me echoed with the sounds of dripping water. There were no walls, just shadows, and the sole source of light was a bulb dangling above my head on a line. I could see -- and smell -- enough to know that I was in one of the city's dockside warehouses, but there were no wares being housed.

There was a tarp spread out under me, which I didn't take as a good sign.

It didn't help that my head was still pounding.

I was testing the strength of the cuffs when a man walked into the light. The red bird-like tattoo on his face gave him away as a Yuyan, and after a second I recognized the one who had pistol-whipped me on Azula's orders. Vachir or something like that.

He had a big toolbox that he placed on the ground. He took out a length of twine.

I tried to come up with something clever that would make me look fearless, but my head was playing host to a barroom brawl and my mouth was dry and I really did not like that he'd brought a toolbox.

Vachir looked at me. "Princess Azula has specified that your education is to begin with your hands."

He used the twine to tie my right arm in place against the chair arm. I tried to kick at him, but it turned out that my legs were cuffed to the chair legs. I tried to pull my arm away, but he leaned with his whole weight and pinned it in place long enough to complete the knot.

Then he went back to his toolbox and got a hammer.

He started by unfurling the trigger finger on my right hand.

* * *

I'll give the Yuyan their reputation. One slam of the hammer, and I lost my ability to ever fire a gun with that hand again.

* * *

By the third finger, my headache was gone. By the fifth, I could no longer hold back the tears.

* * *

For some reason, screaming helped with the pain. I sounded off like an alarm while Vachir wiped off the hammer and brought it back over to his toolbox. I'd been roughed up as a result of some of my cases, but those had been _attacks._ I'd had a chance to fight back, and even when I'd been on the losing end, my enemies had been looking to win rather than hurt.

I'd never been tortured before, though. It turned out to be on a completely different level.

Over at his toolbox, Vachir was unfolding an apron. He put it on and tied it around the back. Then he bent down and brought a long stiletto knife out of the box.

I continued my groaning and yelling.

"Let me know if you get lightheaded." Vachir approached and held out the knife so that the light caught the blade. "I will now be relieving you of some of your skin and blood, but my intention is not to kill you. This kind of work can be unpredictable, and only together can we both get through this."

I let my groan become a sob.

He rolled up the sleeve of my blouse and ran his fingers over the pale skin of my forearm, tracing the veins. Was he intending to target them, or avoid them? He pinched a bit of my skin upward and moved the blade of the knife towards it.

That's when I stopped my fake sobbing, threw my noggin forward, and made the jerk eat a headbutt that knocked him off his feet. The knife dropped into my lap.

I debated trying to use it to free myself, but Vachir was already letting fly with muffled cursing and trying to get up while holding his hands to his nose. So instead I threw my whole body forward this time at the same time I pushed against the floor with my feet. The chair tipped and fell and I slammed into Vachir with all of its weight coming down on both us.

The knife was pressed between us. Somehow, neither of us got stabbed. But I could fix that. The chain of the handcuff on my left arm gave me a room to grab the knife, angle it, and push it into Vachir. Then I did it again. And again. And again.

His swearing became screams.

He struggled against me, trying to push me and the chair away, but I shifted my weight to keep him pinned. The whole time, I was stabbing. I couldn't stab deeply, or with any real strength, but it was a good knife. And a body could only take so many holes in it.

Eventually, Vachir stopped moving. It turned out that he'd laid the tarp out for himself. How considerate. Too bad my own clothes had been ruined by his blood.

It took some doing, searching his pockets in this situation. I could only use my left hand, and the handcuff chain didn't give me so much range that I could avoid having to shift my body (and the stupid chair on top of me) around. The pain coming from my right hand sometimes left me freezing in place, wincing, and letting loose with a yowl that would have offended a stray cat. I eventually found a key, but couldn't use it until I rolled off Vachir, tossed the key onto my chest, and then angled my head so that I could pick it up with my teeth. It took a few tries to unlock the left handcuff, but that was the tipping point. From there I unlocked my right arm and legs and used the knife to cut the twine.

I raised my right hand and tried to move my mangled fingers.

It didn't work, and I wound up yowling again.

Okay. So I was down a hand, and my clothes were covered in blood. I did a more thorough search of Vachir's body and found a wallet with a good amount of cash on it. Exploring the rest of the warehouse, I found a raincoat and Homburg hat that were Vachir's size. When I closed and tied the coat, it covered up the mess that was my outfit.

I wanted to get out of here as quickly as possible, but I made myself stop and think this through. I needed to rescue Zuko, but I didn't know where Azula would have taken him. Even if I did find them, I needed a way to fight back. Calling the cops wouldn't do, as the precincts around here all took money from my parents. Mother and Father certainly wouldn't help me go after Azula.

It seemed like my first step was arming myself for a fight. And I had some spare guns in my office.

* * *

The rain and wind lashed at me as soon as I left the warehouse. Vachir's raincoat offered only a meager defense, and soon I was soaked to the bone. Barely anyone was out in this mess, and I noticed that most of the vendors were closed. It was apparently Sunday; I'd completely lost track of the week's progression.

I stumbled along, my right hand cradled in a pocket and my left holding the hat on my head against the wind. The pain was radiating from my ruined fingers to wash over my whole body, and now my headache was back again. My attention went fully internal, to my damage and my guilt.

Somehow I'd led Azula to Zuko. I didn't know how, but it had to be me. He'd dodged her -- and me -- until he'd let me fall into his bed. And then we hadn't been able to finish getting dressed before Azula was there with an army of thugs. It had to be me. I'd killed him.

The rainstorm did strange things to the city. Zuko's scarred face stared at me from every shadow, in puddles and on stained walls. His features were twisted in agony, his cries of pain pulsing in time with my mangled fingers. Azula's laughter echoed in the thunderclaps that echoed in the sky.

At some point, I realized there was something in path, and I opened my eyes to find myself at an intersection with a Yellow Cab idling in front of me. The window was open and the driver was saying, "-ain't fit for a dame! Come in and get out of the rain!"

I got in the back, dripping water all over the seat. "Thanks."

The driver looked back at me. "You okay? You're not looking so good. You got parents or a friend I can take you to? A hospital?"

I tried to remember where I wanted to go, and shook my head. "Take me to Stout's Alley." I got Vachir's wallet and pulled a wad of bills out. "Get me there fast and you can keep the change."

"Yeah, okay." He got the cab moving, but glanced back at me. "My name's Ruon Jian."

I nodded. "I don't care."

* * *

I wanted to run down the halls of my office building, but moving that quickly jostled me in a way that made my hammered hand scream in torment. So I stalked my way down the halls, leaving a trail of rainwater to mark my path, and made my way to my offices. I almost there when I realized that I didn't have my key. It had been in my handbag, and Vachir rudely hadn't brought it with us when he took me away.

But then I looked ahead to the door to my office and saw that it was ajar. And there were sounds of footsteps and activity inside.

I slipped my feet out of my shoes and eased off the raincoat. I left them both there in the hall, and eased my way forward without a sound. The pain in my right hand was down to a dull ache, suppressed by my certainty that there was an enemy in my lair.

I peeked through the doorway. The front room was empty. Kei Lo's reception area was as neat and tidy as ever, but a wet umbrella was in the stand by the door, and a line of droplets led into the back where my own office was.

I heard the sound of a cabinet drawer sliding open. Someone was raiding my records.

I made my way over to Kei Lo's desk and bent over to peer underneath it. One of my spare Beretta 418 pistols was taped to the underside, as expected. Kei Lo didn't even know it was down there, but I liked to have a weapon hidden in every room. Just in case. I had a much better arsenal in one of the cabinets in my own office, but this little popgun would have to do for now.

The problem was that this gun didn't have a lot of stopping power, so I could put a bullet somewhere fatal but still have an enemy on his feet still able to shoot his own weapon. Winning a fight didn't always mean surviving it. I'd need to be precise with my shots, and only my left hand was working.

Still, with the pistol up and at ready, I made my way back to my office.

This door was ajar, too. I peaked in, saw who was there, and stepped forward so that the frame was blocking the view of my whole left arm. "Some weather we're having, huh?"

Kei Lo, still wearing his raincoat, spun around with a stack of file folders in his hand. "You- You're _here!_ "

"Sure. So are you. Doing a little alphabetizing?" I stepped forward, still keeping my gun hidden, and looked at the mess he'd left on my desk. Papers were lying all over the place, all records from my past cases. It was like he was going through everything I had, but why? He knew everything that was supposed to be in those files.

And then I saw a book over at the corner of the desk closest to Kei Lo. It looked like a journal.

A journal I'd seen before.

I might not be much of a detective, but I could put together the pieces once they're all in front of me. "You're working for Azula."

Kei Lo shook his head. "No! I mean, come on, you know you're the only one for me! I was just-"

"Oh," I hissed. "It was _you._ I told you I was in the Mission District! You let her know where to find me!"

Kei Lo forced out a giggle. "What? That's ridiculous! You didn't give me an address or anything. And, hey, Azula found you? Are you okay? You're not looking very good."

I bit back a groan. The _car._ The stupid, _stupid_ car. All Azula had to do was have her thugs drive up and down the streets looking for my car, parked right out in the open, and then knock on the nearby doors asking around for a guy with a scar on his face. No wonder she'd waited for morning to ambush us. Her people were probably up all night looking for me.

And Kei Lo had sold me out. My pretty, stupid secretary, who I shouldn't trusted, never mind let touch me.

I stepped forward so that he could see my gun. "Where's Azula taken Zuko?"

Kei Lo looked at the gun, looked at me, and dropped his folders. "You're not holding it with your good hand. Did the princess give you a little trouble?" He took a step towards me.

I took a step back and aimed the gun between his eyes.

He sneered, "She's a _real_ woman, you know. She appreciates a guy who treats her well. Not like you. Never telling me everything, leaving me behind unless you needed me for some gruntwork." He kept walking towards me.

I backed up into the reception room. "If she's a real woman, then why does she need you to take care of a loose end like me? Tell me where she is and we'll see which of comes out on top."

"Put that stupid gun down," he said. He reached into his jacket, pulled out my spare Colt .48, and aimed it at my heart. "Princess Azula is busy with a rendezvous. I've gotten to know her very, _very_ well, but not as much as I know you. I've never seen you fire a gun with your left hand." He took another step.

I was backed into the entrance doorframe, now. Nowhere to dodge.

I sighed. "Sure, you know me pretty well. No point in denying that, not with as much as you've seen of me. But do you know the reason I always just treated you like an annoying hireling?"

He snorted. "You're selfish. Too wrapped up in your petty little rebellion against everything that made you what you are. You can see the valuable things in front of you."

"Well, maybe. But mainly it's because you're as dumb as a box of rocks. Considering how bored I always am, even if you haven't seen it yourself, do you really think I've never practiced firing a gun with my left hand?"

I pulled the trigger and put a bullet right between his eyes. His head snapped back and his body tottered over to crash on his desk.

I might have been stuck with my off hand, but I _did_ practice shooting with both, and the advantage of a little pea-shooter like my Beretta is that there isn't as much recoil. If Kei Lo had ever practiced his shooting, he'd have known that.

Idiot.

I collected the Colt from his dead hands and then went back to my office. I'd need more weapons if I was going after Zuko. And with the journal back, maybe I could even help him do some good for this world.

* * *

A rendezvous, Kei Lo had said. Azula was making a rendezvous. And we all know that idiot had a habit of saying too much. She already had Zuko, so who was she meeting?

I had a theory, and I knew the princess a lot better than Kei Lo did, no matter what she'd done to get him on her side. She'd given him the journal to see if I'd made any copies of the information. That's why he was going through my records. If Azula wasn't handling that herself, she was taking care of the bigger problem- Prince Zuko of New Manchukuo. And as long as he was in her power, she wouldn't just kill him. She was daddy's little girl, and it was Ozai who had given her the mission. She would bring Zuko back home for his punishment, and do so as quickly as possible. And she wouldn't trust commercial travel, not for a trip all the way across the Pacific with a hostage.

She was meeting one of her own ships, probably from the New Manchukuo Navy. Which meant that she needed a private pier. And I happened to know someone who owned one, someone ex-Navy who would be more than happy to do a favor for a former employer.

Ty Lee had said that Zhao had something coming to his pier today, something special, and he had to oversee preparations.

The rain was lighter by the time I emerged from my office, which was good because Vachir's raincoat hadn't gotten any more waterproof while it waited for me in the hallway. Kei Lo wouldn't need his old Ford Coupe anymore, so I added it to my arsenal and drove to Cypress Island, to Zhao's club and casino. Crossing the long bridge over the bay, I saw a metal Destroyer -- two masts and a New Manchukuo flag sticking up above the bow -- docked in the rear.

Bang.

* * *

I started by breaking into the club.

It was dark and the doors were locked. Usually, at least the chefs and cleaning crew would have bene around during the day, but apparently Zhao wasn't expecting a Sunday night crowd. I went ahead and used my favorite kind of universal key, a bullet in the right place, and made my way in through the front door.

I swept through the vestibule, and then into the dining room and dance floor. There was no one hanging around, no enemy reinforcements who would come at my back when I went at the destroyer. Next I cleared the casino. There was no one alive there, either.

Zhao's dead body was lying on the bar, though.

There was a bullet hole in the side of his temple and scorch marks around it. A close-range shot.

It seemed that Azula wasn't going to leave any witnesses behind.

From there, I headed into the kitchens. Like the rest of the place, they were dark and unoccupied. I didn't bother checking all the closets and little nooks, so someone could have been hiding from me, but there was no need to be that paranoid. I could hear activity deeper into the employees-only sections of the building. This was no ambush in the making.

I didn't slip off my shoes this time, as I might have to do some running before this was settled, but I did go slow and cautiously. Fortunately, no one was doing any patrols. Everyone was focused on the rear loading platforms, and I slipped into the space to observe from behind a crate.

Uniformed soldiers were working to move supplies onto the destroyer, the only ship at the pier besides a little speedboat tied to the docks, while Yuyan thugs with pistols in hand lounged around and kept an eye on things. It had been a good choice to come in through the club; if I'd just rounded the corner of the building, I'd have been blown away before even identifying my targets.

Of course, none of these goons were my real objective.

I noticed the black car idling near the destroyer's loading plank. I could only make out silhouettes through the windows, but Azula's topknot was too familiar to mistake. The hunched figure sitting next to her would have had handsomely broad shoulders if he'd been sitting up straight. Perhaps I was being too arrogant to say I could recognize Zuko's body from just a shadow at this distance, but last night had given me a very good sense of him.

I let that thought warm and comfort me as I prepared to take action.

I scanned the scene again, sorting the Yuyan by distance, angle, proximity to cover, likely reaction vectors, and position against the wind. I picked out Target Number One, kissed the barrel of my Colt .38, stepped out, and fired my first shot.

Target Number One went down with a spray of blood coming out the back of his head. One step, one shot, one body.

In the resulting confusion, Target Number Two, Three, and Four all went down as well. Four steps, four shots, four bodies.

They knew I was here, now, but I had come to my next bit of cover, a crate even taller than I was. The bullets of the Yuyan were eaten up by its mass, while my angle let me pick off the soldiers who were running or trying to get their service pistols out. I fired eight more shots, spaced out so that I could ride the recoil like a lover, and eight more bodies went down.

That was it for the Colt, and I still had only one hand, so no reloads. I dropped the gun and pulled another Colt out of my jacket. It was my last one.

The wet ground made tracking footsteps easy, even with all the gunshots. The humid, open air kept the noise from becoming too overpowering. So I stepped around the crate to find a trio of surprised Yuyan in the process of attempting to charge my position. Before they could transition their thoughts to the idea that I was no longer hiding, another shot put another Yuyan out of business permanently. I pivoted and aimed and fired and ducked and spun and fired again and now two more bodies were on the ground.

My shift in position left the crate once again between me and the remaining soldiers who had been able to get to their weapons. The surviving Yuyan had spread out and were firing in sequence to keep me pinned. But that was okay, because this was a big crate, and I had full visibility for Azula's car. I didn't want to risk hitting Zuko, but I could with relative safety put some new holes in the engine and keep that car from going anywhere without a major overhaul. So I did. The engine hissed and shut down.

When the thugs realized that I was firing in the direction of their beloved princess, they shifted tactics and once again tried to charge my cover. This time, they were more successful, as a portion of them hung back to provide suppression fire. I could barely peak around the corner of my crate without getting splinters flying into my face from the near misses, but that at least let me see who was coming and from where.

The difference between me and other gunman is that I didn't just focus on learning how to shoot. Sure, all them know how to throw a punch and get through a scrape, and of course Manchukuo soldiers get real training. But I was a _noble._ I didn't stand in a line with twenty other people and drill through kicks and punch. I started with a private combat tutor before I could read, and while I was down a hand, that hand did have a gun in it.

I was in constant motion as attackers rounded my crate. I put a bullet into the heart of one and immediately spin to fill the guts of another with lead and kick the body into the next and turn to drop one, two, three people who had circled wide to try to make my cover into a dead end. Every time a gun ran out of bullets, I dropped it to the ground and pulled another from Vachir's roomy raincoat. Once the Colt was done I was stuck with the Berettas, so my nice one-bullet-one-body trick was no longer viable. I took headshots when I could, to conserve ammo, but sometimes I needed to empty a whole clip into someone to make sure they weren't going to be more trouble.

Bullets didn't guarantee that a victim died immediately. Part of being a professional was making sure the enemy was both shot _and_ down before shifting my attention.

Pain was my constant companion, all my movement requiring a balance that forced me to move my right arm around. The mangled hand at the end was sending its misery to every other part of my body that would listen to it, and I don't know if that or the hits I'd taken early today or the way I was grinding my teeth was making my head hurt, but it was an imperial-sized headache.

Blood flew and rain fell and bullets zinged through the air.

And when it was all done, I was the last combatant left standing.

I had to admit, despite my strategy, my skill, and arsenal, I really only survived out of luck. Part of being a professional is knowing that bullets move really fast, and it's easy for one to go astray or ricochet in a deadly way. I just as easily could have caught a random shot and gone down like a beginner.

I stretched my trigger finger, caught my breath, and then readied myself to rescue Zuko.

I turned around to face the car and my body jerked and a bullet punched its way clean through my chest.

Azula was standing in front of the car in a black gown with a silver revolver in her gloved hands, fancy clothes contrasting with her steady, wide-legged stance and proper two-handed grip.

She waited, aiming.

I tried to raise my own gun, but my clothes were growing wet with my blood, and my left arm had finally run out of strength. It dropped to my side, and my Berretta tumbled to the ground.

Azula's red lips twisted into a smirk.

I took a step towards her, and tried to make myself reach for another gun, but my arm didn't obey, and I wasn't sure I had any more guns. I took another step, realizing that my right hand no longer pained me; it was completely numb.

I didn't make it to a third step. The world spun and my legs turned to rubber and I toppled into a puddle.

I wanted to get up, but breathing was becoming harder. So I waited while Azula's high heels clicked on the ground and she came over to stand over me. She licked her lips and looked at the revolver dangling from her finger. I recognized it as the one Zuko had been wearing, last night.

I breathed in as best I could, and managed to say, "Zuko? Is he- is- he-" Then my voice gave out.

Azula put a hand on her hip and looked down at me. "What I don't understand is the psychology behind this whole display. An assault with blazing guns? Really? It's a bit much, isn't it?"

I focused on breathing. It was getting harder.

"You had to know this couldn't possibly end well for you. Yes, you did quite admirably, killing all my men. It was a wonderful demonstration of a Manchukuo upbringing." She mimed clapping. "But you had to know how _tenuous_ the whole thing was. What, were you going to pull Zuko along to an escape vehicle, then race out of the city and to a happy ending? You had to know that it would all somehow catch up with you. It's just my good fortune that it was my bullet."

I tried to shake my head.

Azula didn't seem to notice. "So, if you're still capable of speech, do tell me: _Why?_ Why would you attempt all this for _Zuko?_ It's one thing to crawl into bed with him and think you can get away with it, but there's no winning _this._ So why risk your life -- why _throw your life away_ \-- for Zuko?" Her smile was gone. Her eyes were blazing and she was pointing the revolver down at my head with both of her gloved hands.

I might not be much of a detective -- I might not be as classy as I should be -- but I had figured this much out. I could give Azula the answer she was looking for.

I inhaled and said, "I love him." It was all I could say; it was true, and I really couldn't manage more words.

Azula's lips pulled back to reveal her grinding her teeth.

She pulled back the hammer of the gun. It clicked its readiness.

When a crack echoed, I thought she'd shot me. But in my wavering vision, I saw Azula's body jerk. There were more bangs, and Azula twitched one- twice- and stumbled back to the crate that had provided me so much protection. The revolver had fallen from her hands, and she was struggling to remain upright.

I strained myself, trying to see what was going on. Something didn't feel right in my chest, but I managed to leverage myself to get a view of Zhao's club.

Ty Lee was striding out of the loading bay, tears streaming down her cheeks and the Berretta I'd given her clutched in her hands.

Oh.

It hadn't been Azula who'd killed Zhao.

I tried to get up to greet Ty Lee, but that seemed to use the last of my strength, and I completely collapsed. Ty Lee was at my side a second later, lifting me up to lean on her. We stumbled together across the dock, to the speedboat tied next to the destroyer.

Ty Lee laid me in the stern, popped up against the back of the seats. "You okay? You're all bloody."

I took as deep a breath as I could manage. "Zuko- the car-"

Ty Lee nodded and hopped out of the boat. While I waited for her, I focused on my left arm, moving it bit by bit to the one jacket pocket that I hadn't devoted to weaponry. I pulled out Zuko's journal and set it in my lap to a spot where I wouldn't bleed all over it.

I'd just gotten the journal open to the page where I'd hidden my lighter and last cigarette when Ty Lee was back, Zuko alongside her. He untied the speedboat while she scrambled to the front. He got the engine going, and then we were pulling out in the bay. It was a terrible day for a boat ride, but the rain had lessened, so I thought it worth trying to have a smoke.

As we pulled away, I saw Azula staggering after us. Ty Lee had put several bullets in her, but the Berretta didn't have a lot of stopping power, and Ty Lee wasn't a gunfighter. Maybe Azula would bleed out before she could get help. Or maybe she would survive this.

Zuko kneeled beside me. "Mai-" His voice cracked. He was looking at all the blood soaked into my blouse

I guessed that I didn't look so good. To reassure him, I tried to smile, and nodded at the journal. "Got it- back- for you. "

He sniffled like a little kid. "Yes. You did. Thank you. And you brought a cigarette for yourself."

I tried to give him a coquettish smile. I'm not sure I managed it. "Help- smoke?"

"Sure. I got you." He held the cigarette between my lips for me.

I managed to press them together enough to hold the Camel in place.

Zuko raised my lighter and flicked a flame to life. He moved it forward.

And that's when the sky opened up again and the rain became a solid downpour. The lighter flame was snuffed out and my cigarette became completely soaked.

I couldn't help laughing. It hurt, but I kept laughing.

Zuko tried to laugh, too, and he did a pretty good job, despite it being half sobs. Together we laughed, and Ty Lee drove us out to freedom.

I laughed. I held his hand. I said, "Go- save the- world- Zuko."

And it all went dark.

**THE END**


End file.
